From: "Nicknoc" <nicknoc@hotmail.com>
Date: Tue, 15 Feb 2000 20:01:26 +1100
Subject: xfc: NEW: Stain of Purity (1 of 11)
Source: xfc

From: "Nicknoc" <nicknoc@hotmail.com>

TITLE:  Stain of Purity
AUTHOR: Nicknoc
EMAIL: nicknoc@hotmail.com
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: MSR, Case File
ARCHIVE: Gossamer, Spookys, Ephemeral, Blue Velvet, anywhere, just
let me know.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
SPOILERS: Not really.
FEEDBACK: Yes please at nicknoc@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully investigate a series of abductions.
DATE POSTED: 15 February, 2000

NOTES: Thanks so much to my beta crew. Thanks to bugs and Jessica
for a tireless and thorough 'deep-tissue' beta, and thanks to Amanda
and Barb for de-Australianizing this for me. My gratitude is endless...
At the time of writing I had not seen any Season 7 eps, except for The 
Sixth Extinction. Therefore, this fic makes no reference to Season 7.



Stain of Purity
By Nicknoc

All parts can be found at http://members.xoom.com/nicknoc/



Part 1 of 11


She didn't struggle as her wrists were bound to the table legs. She
wasn't calm, but she didn't resist. She merely recognized the
futility in opposition.

Her head hung back over the table, her hair a knotted red waterfall.
The wooden edge dug into the tender skin of her neck.  She rolled her
eyes back into their sockets, trying to escape into a dark corner of
her mind. But she was unable to block out the feeling of cool, gritty
liquid being poured through her hair, and warm blood being daubed on
her stomach. 

Then, something different. A pause in the routine. 

Rough hands grasped at her hair, and pulled it tautly from her
scalp. The last thing she heard was his roar of anger before she
blacked out with the pain.

*****

Four days later
FBI Building
7th April, 2000
9.15 AM


"You're late," she said in a cool voice as he walked into the office.

"I know that," he responded testily. What was she?  His personal
alarm clock? "I spilled coffee down my shirt on the way here, and had
to go back and change. And I burned myself - the coffee was boiling."

He flung his coat over the back of his chair, and turned to her with
a bad-tempered pout.  Okay, he was playing it up a little for the
audience, but there was nothing better to distract Scully from his
failings than an injury.

"Let me see," said Scully, beckoning for him to move closer. She
moved his tie aside and undid two buttons of his shirt to run her
fingers down the skin of his chest. 

"It looks fine, Mulder, just a bit pink. Are you sure the coffee was
really that hot?" She looked at him quizzically, and he couldn't help
the grin that spread across his face.

"Nah, it wasn't really. I just wanted you to undress me in the
office." He waggled his eyebrows at her and then ducked as she
playfully slapped him.

"So is Skinner pissed, or did you make up an excuse?"

"I made an excuse, Mulder," she sighed in a resigned tone. "He said
to go up when you got here, so if you're ready?"

They made their way to Skinner's office, bickering amiably. Mulder
was miffed that Scully hadn't remembered that he'd used the dentist
excuse the previous week. He was even more annoyed when she pointed
out to him that if he'd *really* been to the dentist she may have
remembered, but she couldn't be expected to remember his fake dental
appointments as well.

They were ushered into Skinner's office immediately.

"Agent Mulder, how are your teeth?  This is the second time in ten
days you've been to the dentist; I hope you are okay?"

Scully smirked, and Mulder glared at her before mumbling, "I'm fine,
Sir, just a few fillings."

"Right. Agents, I have an assignment that the VCU needs your
assistance on."

"They requested our assistance?" asked Scully, faintly incredulous.  

"My understanding is that they were forced to request our
assistance," replied Skinner grimly. "This is an unsolved case dating
back 14 months involving abductions of nine young women across two
states.  The ninth victim was taken only five days ago. The only
feature of the abductions that link them is that all the women were
aged between 15 and 30 and had red hair."

He looked up to see the reaction of his agents. Mulder blanched at
his words, but Scully's face remained impassive.

Skinner continued. "Last night a body was discovered of a 17 year
old red-haired female. She had been abducted one month previously.
Out of the nine young women abducted, this is the first body that has
been discovered. This case is fast becoming a publicity nightmare for
all the police departments involved, and it will be for the FBI if it
is not solved soon. I have agreed to release you from the X-Files for
as long as it takes to solve this."

Mulder sat in silence, not listening as Scully clarified some
details with Skinner. 

Red hair. Missing young women.

His natural instinct was to take the case, but this was quickly
overtaken by a desire to shield Scully from anything that might
provoke painful memories of her own abduction. 

He broke into their conversation. "What if we don't want to be
released from the X-files?" 

Scully turned to stare at him, incredulous.

"I think you misunderstand, Agent Mulder," Skinner said evenly. "I
am giving you an assignment, not a choice."

With those words he handed them the file, and dismissed them.

As they traveled in the elevator back to the basement, Scully
flicked through the file while Mulder remained quiet, chewing on his
bottom lip. 

After a noticeable period of silence, Scully flipped her head up and
snapped, "Mulder, what is wrong with you? We don't actually have an X-
File ongoing at the moment. This is important. Why don't you want to
do this?"

He regarded her for a moment. 'Because you have red hair, Scully'
would *not* be an appropriate answer.

"Because we'll be stepping on a lot of toes, Scully," he muttered.

She snorted as she exited the elevator. "Like you've ever worried
about that before, Mulder. I'll organize the travel if you organize
the accommodations. And Mulder? Try and get something decent for once."

*****

Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his airplane seat, while trying not
to dislodge Scully's head from his shoulder. How she managed to fall
asleep so easily always amazed him. He reached up and pulled the air-
conditioning vent open, lifting his face into the cool air that blew
down. 

Settling back into his seat, he glanced down at Scully and briefly
nuzzled his face into her clean-smelling hair. Red hair. Sighing, he
opened the file that sat on his lap.  Immediately his stomach flipped
at the lurid photos that stared up at him. A young woman with long
red hair was splayed on the ground, her white limbs askew and blood
covering her torso. She had been stabbed in the stomach and it
appeared as if a large chunk of her scalp had been ripped off.

He skimmed over the report that came with the photo. The autopsy had
not been performed yet; Scully had the pleasure of that one.  There
were nine abductions across two states that appeared to be linked. 
So far, there was no evidence, no leads and no eye-witness accounts.

He closed the file and glanced at Scully, still sleeping soundly.
Her hand had moved in her sleep and was resting in the valley created
by their touching thighs. He tilted his head and brushed his lips
lightly over her crown. He found it endearing that she was so
abandoned in her sleep; that she wouldn't stir at his caresses. He
knew she was aware it was him - if someone else touched her while she
was sleeping she would have a gun in their face before they could
blink.

This intimacy was a relatively new development in their
relationship. Over the last six months they had developed a habit of
dropping in to see each other on the weekends.  They always had an
reason; a file that the other should see, a book they had promised to
lend or an item of clothing left behind from the last visit.  This
last excuse was Mulder's specialty; he wondered if Scully suspected
that he deliberately left something behind just so he could visit the
following weekend.

As a result of these 'impromptu' visits they had slipped into the
comfortable habit of eating dinner together on a Saturday night, or
spending a lazy Sunday together watching TV. On occasions Scully had
even convinced Mulder to go shopping, a chore that he whined about
incessantly, but rather enjoyed.

Recently, they had been through a lot. His illness, in particular,
had shaken them both.  However, it seemed the more the universe threw
at them, the closer they drew together, as if seeking comfort in each
other's familiar company. 

When not at work they would touch each other often; he would kiss
her on the cheek when he said goodnight, she would hold his hand when
talking intently, and occasionally he would massage her shoulders. 
Sometimes, while watching a movie, she would lie with her head in his
lap and fall asleep to the rhythmic motion of his fingers stroking
her hair.  Often he would spend the night at her house, and in the
morning she would watch him sleep on her sofa for a minute or so
before waking him.  If she knew he was only pretending to sleep, she
didn't let on. 

Neither of them discussed these moments of intimacy; they had become
an accepted part of their relationship, but not a part they were
willing to acknowledge out loud.  Not yet, although Mulder could
sense they were on the verge of admitting their feelings for each
other.  Soon.

He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against her head. He might
as well try and get some sleep.

*****

They had been driving for almost two hours, and still had another 40
minutes before they reached their destination. For the most part they
had passed the time in companionable silence, but Mulder could see
Scully was getting bored. She was beginning to fidget. 

"So Mulder, if you could capture one moment in your life, and
preserve it forever, what moment would it be?"

It was a game they played to pass the time on their all too frequent
car trips. They would take turns asking a question; preferably a
question that challenged them to think deeply. They were both allowed
ten minutes to compose their thoughts and then each had to give their
answer.  Mulder couldn't remember when it first started, but over the
years they had learned a lot of things about each other. They'd also
had a number of heated arguments when the question touched on a
particularly sensitive issue.

One moment in time. 

"So are you looking for an episode that I consider a defining moment
in my life?" clarified Mulder.

"No, not really," replied Scully.  "Just a moment that you always
want to remember, for whatever reason. It could be as simple as
taking a bite of the best chocolate cake ever."

He laughed. "That sounds more like a Scully moment, I think."

She smiled, and settled her head back against the headrest, gazing
unseeingly at the scenery whipping by. He glanced at her fondly. She
was already deep in thought, composing an eloquent answer that would
perfectly reveal another piece of herself, whether or not she
intended to.

He focussed on the road, and tried to think of a moment in his life
worth saving. All he could come up with were moments that he would
prefer to banish forever; to *never* remember.  He could pretty much
discard everything after Samantha's disappearance. Except for moments
involving Scully - he could come up with a list as long as his arm of
special moments involving Scully.  She probably wouldn't consider
them that special. In fact, she'd probably have a *completely*
different slant on most of his special moments, he thought ruefully.
Like the time he told her he loved her. 

Scully's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you ready?"

"Just a couple more minutes, Scully."

He thought quickly. If he chose a moment involving her, she was
likely to be embarrassed. He thought for a time in his life that he
considered special enough to save, and his mind latched on to his
last Christmas Eve with Samantha. She'd been too excited to sleep, so
he'd let her crawl into bed with him.  That was a special moment.

"Okay, I'm ready. You first," he said.  The rules had always been
that the person who asked the question had to answer it first. 

Scully cleared her throat, and glanced sideways at him. "There are a
lot of moments in my life that I think are special enough to preserve
forever, so I found it difficult to choose just one. But I kept
coming back to one moment, and I feel a bit silly, because it's not
really an important moment. Well, not objectively important. When I
asked the question, I thought I would choose a moment involving Dad
or Missy, or my cancer, or Emily. But in the end, I chose the night
we played baseball."

Mulder's breath caught in his throat.

"The reason why I chose that moment," she continued, "was because
for that hour we were both happy. I know how important baseball is to
you, and I felt touched that you wanted to share it with me. And you
were right, Mulder. While we were playing, all my other worries
melted into the background. All I knew was that we were having fun
together, and you had your arms around me and were laughing into my
ear. We were just two normal, happy people." She glanced at him
shyly. "That's my special moment."

Mulder felt his eyes tearing over, and he blinked twice. 

"What about yours?" she asked, when he said nothing.

"Can I change my mind at the last minute?" he asked.

She nodded.

"This moment, Scully. Easily this moment."

He reached over and took her hand in his. 

*****

Starry Nights Motel
Greentown, Indiana


Mulder grunted as he pulled Scully's bag out of the trunk. Damn,
what *did* that woman have in there?  He knew better than to ask. He
also knew better than to offer to carry it for her, but he couldn't
resist a smile as she struggled to lug it to her motel room.

He entered his own room and threw his bag into a corner. The first
thing he did was unlock their adjoining door, and the next was order
dinner. 

Opening the door between their rooms, he called through the crack,
"Scully, I've ordered us pizza."

When she didn't answer, he poked his head around the corner and
heard the shower running. He knocked on the bathroom door and told
her about the pizza.

"Thanks! I'll be out in a moment. Did you order anchovies?"

"Of course," he responded. What a woman; on top of everything she
*loved* anchovies.

When the food arrived he opened the door to take it in to her, and
then thought better of it.  She hated it when her room smelled like
pizza. He, on the other hand, loved it - it made the room feel like
home. He opened the box and inhaled the hot, garlic-scented steam.
All the food groups together on a cheesy disc. Who said pizza was
unhealthy?

In a few moments Scully wandered into his room, still flushed from
her shower and rubbing her hair with a towel. Her silky pajamas clung
to her chest in places where her hair had dripped, and he found it
difficult to tear his eyes away from her breasts.

"Mulder, you have excelled yourself," she stated.

"Scuse me?" He had no idea what he'd done to be so highly regarded.
She hadn't even *tasted* the pizza yet. 

"My room is clean.  There are no rips or stains on the comforter. 
In fact, the comforter is cotton, not nylon and it smells *nice*. The
TV works, there are no missing tiles in the bathroom, but best of
all, my bath has spa jets."  Her eyes were shining.

Mulder looked around at the room. Now that she mentioned it, it was
pretty nice.

"Hmm, yeah. I hadn't noticed."

She rolled her eyes at him, and playfully flicked him with her
towel. "Typical," she muttered.

He grabbed the towel, and pulled her toward him. "Scully, didn't
your mother ever tell you not to do that; someone could lose an eye."

She tilted her head and pretended to consider. "No, I can't recall
her mentioning that. Then again, I was never much of a towel flicker.
I think being around you is causing me to relive my childhood. Or
maybe relive someone else's childhood, most likely *yours*."

"How's that, Scully?" he asked with a grin.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, grabbing a slice of pizza from the
box. "Towel flicking, checking for monsters under the bed before I go
to sleep, alien chasing...pizza at least twice a week...ugh," she
grimaced, eyeing the greasy slice.

He grinned and leaned towards her. "So does this mean you're due to
relive your wild teenage years soon, Scully?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Mulder, if you're fishing for
information about my teenage years, you are going to be sorely
disappointed."

He sat back against the headboard of the bed and sighed. "Soon,
Agent Scully, soon. I'll get the dirt on you somehow."

She abruptly changed the subject, focussing on their case. "So what
are your initial thoughts, Mulder? I just find it very hard to
believe that there is no concrete evidence and that with nine
abductions there are *no* witnesses."

"Well, I guess it's hard to have concrete evidence without a body.
Unfortunately we have one of those now, so maybe you'll find
something tomorrow.  But you're right; it's hard to believe that
nobody saw or heard one of these girls being abducted, especially
given the abductions all took place in small towns. You would think
that a stranger to the town would stand out like a sore thumb."

"Maybe he's not a stranger," Scully mused.

"How can one person be familiar to nine different towns?" countered
Mulder.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he's a regular visitor to all the towns.
Perhaps he doesn't live in the towns, but visits enough for people
not to be suspicious. Or he might have the kind of job that makes
people trust him, such as a police officer. Any thoughts on what kind
of person we are looking for?" she asked. 

"Well, it's probably too obvious to mention, but this is a guy with
a thing about redheads. Possibly he was spurned by a red-haired lover
and this is a way of revenge, possibly he had a red-haired mother or
sister that he has...troubled feelings about," he said, twisting his
face into a grimace. "Although it's odd that only one body has been
found. Either he has been very clever in concealing the bodies so
far, or this woman is the first victim he had killed. If that is the
case, then he's not your regular serial killer. Serial killers
usually...kill."

Scully was examining the crime scene photo while she was eating
pizza. To this day, Mulder remained amazed at her lack of
squeamishness. He was sure that she could eat and perform an autopsy
at the same time, if not for the hygiene aspects.

"It's also odd that he tore her scalp off, rather than destroying
her face," she mused. "Serial killers who target people for how they
look usually deface the person's features, don't they? I wonder why
he targeted her hair? And her stomach," she added.

"Maybe you'll find out more during the autopsy, Scully." He took
another large bite of pizza, and then said through a mouthful of
cheese and crust, "Did you know that only five percent of the
population have red hair? Ancient superstition dictates that if the
shadow of a redhead falls on you, it will bring bad luck. The Irish
believed that if you gave birth to a red-haired girl, a pig had found
its way under the bed during conception."

"Fascinating, Mulder," she murmured, still flipping through the file.

"Wait, there's more. The Ancient Egyptians paid homage to the God
Osiris by burying red-haired women alive." He looked at her, waiting
for her inevitable reaction.

"Well, I'm sure Osiris was impressed, but the whole thing reeks of
discrimination to me," she replied dryly. "All I know about redheads
is their ancestry is usually Celtic, which means redheads have been
oppressed and reviled for centuries - first by the Romans, then by
the English, and then by people who tan easily," she finished,
looking pointedly at his golden skin. 

He laughed. "My point is that the trait of red hair has, through the
centuries, been linked with superstition. There is a group of people
who believe that life originated on Mars, and that Earth was only
colonized when Mars' resources were depleted. They say that the
original inhabitants of Earth were the red-haired inhabitants of Mars
- that they, not Adam and Eve or a random ape, are the Parents of
humanity. They believe themselves to be endowed with special powers
because of this ancestry."

"Mulder, having red hair is a result of genetics. That's all. It is
no more special than blonde or brown hair. It does not give a person
special powers, and I am *not* from Mars. Trust me on this one."

Mulder could see a John Gray joke in there somewhere, but the late
hour had obviously deadened his wit. It had also caught up with
Scully, he noted, as she yawned.

"Get some sleep, Scully," he said, packing up the pizza box. "You'll
need it, I'm sure."

She nodded. "G'night Mulder," she murmured, running her hand lightly
over his hair as she stood up.

At the doorway, she turned and gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. 
"Pig under the bed, Mulder?" she asked.  

He couldn't stop a big grin.  "Yeah."

She gave one nod, turned and stumbled through the doorway, closing
it behind her.  He could still hear her mumbling.  "Pig."


******

Greentown Police Station
Greentown, Indiana
9 April 2000
9.30AM

Detective Harradine was in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper
hair, and lined skin that had obviously seen too much sun.  Under
normal circumstances Scully thought his round face would have seemed
friendly and relaxed, but today it looked tense. He ran his hands
over his face. He looked exhausted, and the lines of strain around
his eyes were clearly evident.

"These are the files for the related abductions. Nine girls are
missing, well, eight now that Caroline Becker's body has been found,
and although we've been on the case for over a year, we have nothing,
except a trail of false leads. I guess we're hoping that a fresh
perspective will open things up for us, and from what I've heard, you
two have a good solve-rate. We need to crack this case, apart from
the obvious reasons.  So far the media attention has been low key,
probably because the abductions have taken place in different towns,
and states, and over a one year period. I don't think they've
realized that the abductions are linked. When they do, however, there
will be hell to pay. Not to mention the fact that media attention may
escalate his actions."

He sighed heavily. "I've put aside a room for you to go through the
files. Agent Scully, our local coroner is expecting you at 12.30 to
perform the autopsy. I hope that time is convenient."

Scully nodded, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the man. He looked
defeated.

"If you could point us to the nearest coffee machine, we'll get
started on the files," requested Mulder.

Two hours later, Scully left Mulder still sifting through the files.
His concentration was such that he didn't even look up when she
whispered that she was going to the Coroner's office.

The young coroner greeted Scully with puppy-like enthusiasm.  He was
obviously not keen to do the autopsy, which was understandable. She
doubted he'd ever seen anything this gruesome before in his career.
Unfortunately, it was all too common for her.

When she peeled back the sheet from Caroline Becker's body, her
stomach did a little flip-flop. Normally she could control her
reactions of horror, but in this case the first thing she noticed was
how similar Caroline's hair was to Missy's. Instictively she picked
up a lock of red hair, and rubbed it between her fingers. It even
felt the same as Missy's - fine, not coarse. Almost baby soft. 

Pushing that thought aside, she set to work in her usual
professional manner. It was as she was inspecting the victim's half 
torn scalp that she noticed the color line in the roots of her hair. 
Caroline was not a natural redhead. At first glance, Scully hadn't 
realised this. Caroline had reddish pubic hair, and her natural hair 
color appeared to be a strong auburn. Although the roots were almost 
an inch long, they weren't overtly noticeable.  Scully noted this, 
and then moved on. A pale dust appeared throughout the girl's long hair.
With a fine tooth comb, Scully scraped some of the dust from the hair for
testing.

Adjusting her mask, Scully bent over to examine the stab wounds. The
victim's upper torso was unscathed, but she counted four knife wounds
in the lower abdomen.  The wounds did not appear to be inflicted
randomly, rather, they were in a diamond shape. Whoever killed her
did so with precision. Working efficiently, Scully collected tissue
and blood samples from around the wounds. Next, she performed the Y-
incision, peeling back the skin to expose the internal organs. As she
inspected the damage to the girl's organs, she noticed with a sharp
feeling of nausea that there were changes to the uterine lining. She
was - had been - pregnant. Good God, the poor girl had been pregnant.

Abruptly Scully moved back from the autopsy table, breathing
heavily.  She peeled off her gloves and mask and went over to the
sink to splash her face with water.  She gripped the side of the sink
until she was sure her hands had stopped shaking.  Shaking hands did
not assist in an autopsy.

Picking up her cell phone, she punched the 'Power' button to call
Mulder. She had intended to perform this autopsy without
interruption, but she knew he would be interested in this piece of
information, and the sound of his voice would calm her.

When she switched her phone on, however, the LED screen told her she
had a message. It was Mulder.

"Hey, Scully. I'm going to Kempton, just across the border in
Illinois. I've been talking to Harradine, and we agree that there are
too many people to interview for us to do them together. So I'm going
to cover the towns in Kankakee and Ford Counties over the next couple
of days, while you do the towns closer to Greentown. Don't get mad,
this isn't a ditch, okay? It just makes more sense.  I've taken the
car. Harradine said he could loan you a nice young police officer to
ferry you around in the meantime."  There was a pause, before he
added softly, "Be careful, Scully."

She sighed, turning the phone back off. She wanted to get angry with
him for going off without her, but he was right. She'd call him later.

She continued the autopsy, methodically noting her findings on tape.
She would go through them later, when she received the transcript.

End Part 1

From: "Nicknoc" <nicknoc@hotmail.com>

Stain of Purity
By Nicknoc

All parts can be found at http://members.xoom.com/nicknoc/


Part 2 of 11


Starry Nights Motel
Greentown, Indiana
10.45PM 


When she got back to her motel room, the first thing she did was
call Mulder. It was 10.45pm, but she knew he wouldn't even be close
to sleeping. She, on the other hand, was exhausted and ready for bed.

"Mulder," he answered.

"Hey there," she said. 

"Scully! I've been trying you on and off all day - I kept getting
your voice mail. I was starting to worry."

"Sorry," she responded. "I had the autopsy, and then I tried to call
you, and your phone was off. Then I met with Harradine and we went to
visit Caroline's parents. That was pretty tough - they are,
naturally, distraught. Then Harradine took me someplace for dinner,
so this is the first time I've had a chance to call."

"Harradine took you out for dinner?" asked Mulder. Scully smiled at
the jealousy in his voice.

"Yes, Mulder. We had a lovely time," she teased. "Just him and me,
oh - and his wife."

She heard him laugh softly in her ear.

"So how'd the autopsy go, Scully? Find anything interesting?"

"She was pregnant, Mulder. About six weeks pregnant. She died a
nasty death - severe blood loss from a torn scalp and four knife
wounds. The wounds appeared to be in a diamond pattern. I can't even
begin to guess the implications of that, but I'm sure you'll come up
with some unusual theory," she said dryly. "She had some old bruising
around her wrists, and some chafing that looked new, so I think she
was restrained at the time of her death, and had been so previously.
Oh, and she wasn't a natural redhead.  Her hair was dyed - the roots
were just beginning to show."

"When was she abducted, Scully?"

Scully grabbed the file from out of her briefcase. "Umm, it says
here she was abducted on March 11th, 2000. So that's about one month
ago.  I haven't spoken to her boyfriend yet," she said, pre-empting
his next question. "I'm seeing him tomorrow morning."

Mulder sighed into her ear. "That's going to be hard," he said
softly. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Mulder," she responded automatically. At his cluck of
annoyance, she added, "Really, Mulder. I'm okay with this. I've seen
worse."

"Maybe, Scully, but I can't imagine anything worse than autopsying a
pregnant woman."

"She wasn't a woman," Scully said quietly, "She was a girl. Just
turned seventeen."

They were silent for a moment, both contemplating the monster who
could kill a pregnant teenager.

"When was her time of death?" Mulder finally asked.

"I estimate about three days ago.  I took some samples from her
body, and forensics should have them back soon. But there didn't
appear to be any traces of semen, so I don't think she was raped.
There wasn't any skin under her fingernails, or even defense marks.
It was if she didn't even struggle, Mulder."

"Well I haven't really got anything of interest. So far I've
interviewed the parents and friends of four of the missing girls. The
only consistency, apart from the red hair, is that they all
disappeared without a trace. No witnesses and no signs of a struggle.
There also doesn't appear to be any one person that links the girls -
at least not that we can find so far. I feel as if I'm looking for a
needle in a haystack," he said in a despondent voice.

"We'll find him, Mulder," she said softly. "I'm beat. Try and get
some sleep okay?" She was just about to hang up, when she blurted,
"Mulder? When are you coming back?"  

She blushed as soon as the words left her mouth.  She sounded
desperate.

"Miss me already, Scully?" he teased.

"No, I miss the car," she responded acidly before hanging up in his
ear. 

********

Melville residence
Sibley, Indiana
10 April 2000
10.00AM


Scully sat at the wooden kitchen table of the Melville's house. Out
of politeness she sipped the instant coffee they had given her. She'd
already had enough caffeine that morning to last her for the rest of
the day.

Todd Melville's parents hovered around, obviously nervous at her
presence. Todd hung back, lurking near the fridge.  

"Caroline was such a lovely girl," Mrs. Melville babbled, her permed
and hairsprayed hair bobbing as she spoke. "It's just so awful. So
awful.  She loved Todd so much.  We were all certain they would end
up married." Her voice choked and she dabbed at tears with a tissue.

Mr. Melville cut in, thrusting his impressive belly toward Scully.
"Look, I have to ask this. You don't think Todd's involved in any
way, do you?  Because he would have given up his life for her. There
is no way my son-"

Scully cut in. "No, Mr. Melville, Todd is not under suspicion in any
way. I am just hoping he can provide us with information that can
lead us to Caroline's killer. If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to
Todd alone."

The Melvilles nodded, and left the kitchen.

She turned to look at the boy. Todd was only seventeen himself, but
he looked younger.  His body still hadn't filled out, and he had a
smattering of pimples across his chin. He leaned against the counter
and picked at his nails, refusing to look at her.

"Why don't you come and sit down, Todd," she said gently. "I know
this is hard for you. Very hard. I've been there myself, and I know
the pain it causes."

Todd looked up, anguish in his eyes.

"I feel as if half of me has been ripped off," he choked out.

Scully nodded. She knew that feeling.  She indicated the chair next
to her, and he sat down, his head still bowed.

"Todd," she began softly, "Were you aware that Caroline was pregnant?"

He looked up, startled.  "That's impossible!" he blurted.

"Why is it impossible, Todd?" Scully asked, feeling guilty at the
pain she was inflicting on him, necessary though it was.

"Because we hadn't ever...we hadn't done it."

Scully winced at the next words she knew she had to say.

"Todd, is it possible that Caroline had been with someone else?"

He jumped up violently from the table. "No!" he yelled. "No way,
dammit!  She loved me, and I loved her!"

Lowering his voice, aware that his parents were listening, he said,
"She was a virgin. We both wanted our first time to be special, but
she wasn't ready, and I respected that. She always said that I was
the person she was going to lose her virginity to and I believe her -
believed her. She wasn't lying, dammit." His voice started choking.
"I was going to ask her to marry me on her eighteenth birthday."

"Todd, I'm so sorry," said Scully quietly. "But Caroline was six
weeks pregnant. Can you think of anyone she may have been with two
weeks prior to her abduction?"

She watched, puzzled, as the blood drained from Todd's face.

"Six weeks pregnant?" he asked hoarsely. "Are you sure she was only
six weeks pregnant?"

Scully nodded. "As sure as I can be."

He moaned and slumped back into the chair, placing his face into his
hands.
 
"That bastard did it. God, he raped her."

Scully frowned. "Todd, Caroline was abducted one month ago. She must
have been pregnant *before* she was taken."

He looked up, aghast. "Two months ago. She was taken *two* months
ago, as of tomorrow. February 11th, 2000." He said the date
mechanically, and Scully knew it would be forever emblazoned on his
brain. 

Quickly she delved into her briefcase and pulled out Caroline
Becker's file.  There was the date in front of her, clearly marked as
3/11/2000. They had made a mistake.  Whoever had entered the details
into the computer at first instance had obviously entered a '3'
instead of a '2' for the month, and it had carried over.

Dammit!  Her meticulous nature abhorred carelessness, but
particularly when it involved soemthing so important.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Todd, I'm so sorry. The date
was wrong in the file.  We'll find him, I promise you."

She stayed with Todd for a short while longer, asking him questions
about places Caroline regularly visited, and whether he had noticed
anyone suspicious recently. He was too distraught to remember
anything of value, so eventually she left him her card and made him
promise to call her if he remembered anything more.

On the drive back to the police station she fumed, ignoring the
officer who had picked her up. How could anyone possibly get such an
important date wrong?  How was it possible that nobody realized it
was wrong?  Why had nobody picked up the mistake in previous
interviews with Caroline's family and friends?  She wanted to call
Mulder to let off steam, but she didn't want to subject the young
officer beside her to a stream of invectives that would probably make
him blush.

By the time she reached the Greentown Police Station she had calmed
down somewhat. When Detective Harradine asked her how the interview
went, she calmly pointed out the mistake in the official report. She
felt a wave of sympathy at the horrified look on his face, which was
increased when she pointed out the implications.

"So the perpetrator raped her and got her pregnant?" he asked, shock
evident on his face.

"It appears that way," replied Scully in controlled tones.  She
hadn't yet had time to come to grips with that fact herself.

Harradine rubbed at his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I'm afraid I have more bad news for you, Agent Scully.  Sarah
Phillips' body has been found. She was the young woman who was
abducted early last week. The body is at the Coroner's office for you
to autopsy."

Scully closed her eyes briefly.

"Fine," she said, opening them again. "I need to eat something
first. Tell the coroner I'll be there at 1.30."

*****

Newtown Police Station
Newtown, Illinois
10 April 2000
12.47PM


Mulder sat at an empty desk in the local police station of the
latest town he was visiting.  He couldn't even remember its name - he
was beginning to mentally refer to the towns by the names of the
victims who had lived there.

This town was Jolie.

He was using scotch tape to stick together four sheets of paper that
had been faxed from the investigation team in Greentown.  Together
the sheets made a map, and the towns from which the girls had been
taken had been circled.

With the latest two abductions added to the map, the investigation
team had realized that the towns formed a rough circle around a town
which they considered the epicenter of the abductions.  It was this
town of Rockhampton that Mulder was interested in.  Although no girls
had been taken from Rockhampton, the pattern of surrounding
abductions suggested that the killer may be based there.

According to the local police, Rockhampton was a small town, but
with a large outlying rural community.  However, Mulder was assured
that chances were high that the Rockhampton police would be
acquainted with everybody within their area personally.  It was the
only redeeming feature of working in small towns as far as Mulder was
concerned.  The local police knew *everybody*.

When his phone rang he answered it quickly, knowing instinctively it
would be Scully.

"Scully?"

"Hi, Mulder."

She sounded tired.

"You okay?" he asked.

"They found Sarah Phillips' body, Mulder," she said dully. "I'm
doing the autopsy today."

He sighed. He could hear the tightness in her voice, but he didn't
say anything. She would just tell him she was fine if he asked.

"I interviewed Caroline's boyfriend, Mulder," she continued. "The
police got the date of her abduction wrong in their report. She was
taken two months ago."

His mind quickly did the calculations, recalling Scully's finding
that the victim was six weeks pregnant. He'd impregnated her, and
then killed her.

"Oh," he said.

"'Oh' is right, Mulder. Fuck," she sighed into his ear.

His eyes widened in surprise. He could count on one hand the times
he'd heard Scully use that word - that was usually his domain. 

"Scully, you know we'll find him," he said softly. His heart pierced
at her obvious despondency.  "I'm coming back tomorrow," he added, in
a lame attempt to cheer her up. 

"Oh goody, I get the car back," she responded weakly.

"And if you're good I may even let you drive it - if we can shift
the seat far enough forward for you."

She laughed, and he lightened a little at the sound of her throaty
chuckle in his ear. God, he missed her.

He told her about their suspicion that Rockhampton was the home of
the killer, and he noticed her mood lift a little. He felt they were
drawing closer to their prey.


*****

Rockhampton Police Station
Rockhampton, Indiana
3.30PM

Mulder was handed a cup of coffee by Stephen Nugent, the officer
assigned to help him while he was in Rockhampton.

"Look, I have to admit," Nugent said nervously, rocking from foot to
foot, "the biggest crime I've solved was when Mrs. Miller's car was
stolen. We don't get much crime in Rockhampton, and frankly, that's
why I like it. If I wanted to deal with crime, I'd move to New York
City."

Mulder smiled, both at the young man's obvious anxiety and his
bluntness. "It's okay, I'm not expecting you to solve this case
single-handed. I just want you to help me with some information."

Mulder outlined the profile he had worked up, explaining that their
suspect was probably a white male, in his late twenties to early
thirties and a loner who had a problematic relationship with a red-
haired woman, possibly his mother or a lover. Nugent listened
intently and when Mulder finished he shook his head. "I can't say
that rings any bells with me.  I mean, I know pretty much everybody
in this area, and nobody seems like a murderer to me. It's a good
community we've got here," he said somewhat defensively.

Mulder pursed his lips, trying to hide his frustration. "Usually
serial killers are the last people you'd expect," he explained
patiently. "I don't want you to think of someone who seems like a
murderer - think of someone who fits the profile I have given you." 
He paused, watching the officer frown in concentration. "Perhaps we
can start by looking at old felony reports?" he said eventually, when
it appeared that Nugent was not going to be forthcoming with any
suggestions.

Nugent took him through past felony reports, but there was only one
man who possibly fit the profile.  However, further checking revealed
he had been in jail for drunken behavior on the night Caroline Becker
was abducted.

"So there's nobody in this area who you would consider a loner? Who
does a bit of travel around the state? Are you sure about this?" He
paced up and down the threadbare office, worrying a sunflower seed
husk with his tongue. His tie was loosened and his shirt rumpled. He
had long ago discarded his jacket, and he suspected he smelled. He
was starting to become frustrated at the lack of leads, and
struggling to hide it.

"Well," said Nugent slowly, "I guess there's lotsa people 'round
here who could be considered loners. People often choose to live in a
rural community precisely because they *are* loners, y'know what I
mean? And as for red hair, I mean it's hardly an uncommon
characteristic."

Mulder bit his tongue to prevent himself from pointing out that only
five percent of the population have red hair.  As if reading his
mind, Nugent added, "The original settlers around here were of Scots-
Irish descent, so maybe we've got more than our fair share of
redheads." He ran his hand self-consciously through his own auburn
curls. "You should see my brother's hair. Talk about a carrot top."

"Let me think," the officer mused, rubbing his nose with his
forefinger. "Actually, now that you mention it, there is someone who
fits your profile - David Sharp. But he's a nice guy. Kind of quiet,
but never been in any trouble. Except for the car accident. He and
his sister were driving home from a party a couple of years ago and
he lost control of the car. His sister died. She had amazing red hair."

Nugent paused for a moment, caught by a memory. "His sister was kind
of the golden girl of the family. She was the Prom Queen, a really
smart girl, and absolutely gorgeous. David kind of paled in
comparison to her. The whole town was shocked by her death. David
kind of withdrew into himself after that; I think he blamed himself.
He moved out of the house shortly after - I think things were kind of
strained with his parents after Maria's death."

Nugent picked up the papers in front of him and shuffled them
nervously. Mulder watched him fidget. He was obviously hiding
something.

"Anything else?" he inquired mildly.

Nugent sighed. "It doesn't seem fair to tell you this. It's
unsubstantiated conjecture. A number of people believed that the car
accident was no accident. Rumours flew around that David had always
been insanely jealous of his sister, so people jumped to the
conclusion that he'd crashed the car on purpose. There is no evidence
to suggest that this happened. In any event, if he'd wanted to kill
his sister, crashing a car that he was driving seems like a pretty
dumb way of doing it."

Unless he was trying to kill both of them, thought Mulder. 

"That's good. I'll need to speak to him. Can you think of anyone
else?"

Nugent frowned. "There are the Harper brothers. They're kind of
weird but they seem harmless. They don't seem like murderers to me.
However, they have a furniture moving business and they travel all
over this part of Indiana, and certain parts of Illinois. They have
red hair themselves, but no red-haired wives, or sisters. Their
sister is blonde; she lives with them. Their parents don't have red
hair either. I've been to their house," he explained, "and I saw a
photo of them when they were younger. I only remember the photo
because I was surprised that both their parents had dark brown hair.
Maybe they were adopted or something."

Mulder jumped up. "Let's go. We'll speak to David Sharp first and
then the Harpers."


******

Sharp Residence
20 miles south of Rockhampton

The young man who answered the door was unkempt, and sleepy-eyed. 

"David, sorry to disturb you," said Nugent. "We'd like to ask you
some questions."

David blinked, puzzled. "What about?"

"May we come in?"

He moved back from the door, and Mulder and Nugent entered the dimly
lit house. A smell of stale smoke hung in the air, and Mulder made
out a small pile of empty beer cans near the sofa.

David looked slightly embarrassed at the mess. "Take a seat." He
swept some clothes off the sofa, and Nugent sat down. Mulder remained
standing, surveying the room.

"You're aware that a number of young girls have been abducted from
surrounding areas?" asked Nugent, getting straight to business.

"Yes," answered David warily. "I read about it in the paper. What's
it got to do with me?"

"Nothing," answered Mulder calmly. "We're just questioning people in
the neighborhood. I don't suppose you've noticed anyone behaving
suspiciously, or know of anyone who may have a reason to target red-
haired young women?"

The young man blanched.

"No," he said shortly.

"Your sister had red hair, didn't she?" asked Mulder mildly.

"My sister's dead," answered David shortly.

Mulder looked at him, and froze. For a brief moment they connected;
sharing a pain and consequential guilt that nobody else could
understand. 

"I'll need you to tell us where you were on the days the girls were
abducted."

David nodded.

******

Harper Farm
35 miles NE of Rockhampton
6.00PM

Both John and Rob Harper were at home.  They appeared slightly
surprised when Mulder introduced himself as FBI, but cordially asked
him in and offered him coffee.

"No thanks," replied Mulder as they entered the living room. "I'd
just like to ask you some questions. We're investigating the
disappearance of a number of young girls in this general area. We
thought you might be able to help."

Rob Harper frowned, running his hand through his bright copper hair.
"I'm not sure I understand. Why do you think we could help? I mean,
we'd love to if we could. I've read about this in the papers.  It's a
terrible business, but I don't see that we have anything to offer
your investigation, Mr. Mulder."

"I understand you have a furniture moving business," said Mulder
smoothly. "Do you travel around a lot?"

"We do," answered John. "Our business is very successful. We service
this part of Indiana, plus neighboring towns in Illinois.  We
certainly chew up a lot of miles."

Mulder walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up the photo of
three young boys, a young girl and two people he assumed were their
parents.

"Is the other boy in this photo your brother?" he asked.

John answered curtly. "That's Bill."

"Does he live with you?" asked Mulder mildly.

"No," answered Rob quickly. "We don't get along," he added. "We
don't know where he is - somewhere in Europe."

"This is your sister?" asked Mulder.

"Yes," replied Rob. "That's Aletha."

"She lives with you, doesn't she? Can I ask her some questions?"

"Yes, she does live with us. But I'd prefer it if you didn't speak
with her. My sister is very shy. She doesn't take well to strangers."

Mulder locked eyes with Rob, trying to read his tone of voice.
Eventually, he moved on. "Are these your parents?"

Both men nodded in unison. They looked so much alike, in both
features and mannerisms, that it appeared for a moment as if he was
seeing double.

"Where did you get your hair from?" asked Mulder. "It's quite
distinctive."

Rob smiled slightly. "We don't know. It was a bit of a family joke
really. Mom and Dad must have both had a recessive gene or
something." He shrugged. "I'm not a scientist, Mr. Mulder."

John cut in. "Mr. Mulder, are we under suspicion?"

Mulder looked at them for a long moment. Finally he spoke. "Not at
the moment. Although it would help if you could tell me where you
were on the 11th of February, and also last Monday"

Rob got up and went into the kitchen, bringing out with him a large
diary. He flipped through it quickly until he got to February 12th. 

"On February 12th we were on a job - a large one. We spent the whole
day and most of the night moving an entire household of items.
Needless to say we have a number of witnesses to verify that. And,
last Monday..." He paused to flip through the pages of the diary.
"...we were also on a job."

Mulder looked at the self-satisfied look on Rob Harper's face. They
had an alibi...yet something just didn't feel right to him. He turned
to Nugent.

"Can you get contact details for those witnesses?" Turning back to
Rob and John Harper he said, "Thank you for your time. I'll be seeing
you."

As he went to leave the room, he heard a faint cry, followed by the
cooing of a woman's voice. 

"You have a child?"

"My sister's baby," answered Rob.

Mulder glanced at Nugent, who shrugged slightly to indicate that he
was not aware of a baby.  Mulder glanced around the room for evidence
of the baby's existence. No photos, no toys. 

Back in the car he directed Nugent to check the Harper's alibi, and
the whereabouts of the third brother. He also asked him to assign
someone to track down details of the sister's child. It struck him as
odd that a woman had given birth to a child in a small close-knit
community without the local police being aware of it.

End Part 2 

From: "Nicknoc" <nicknoc@hotmail.com>

Stain of Purity
By Nicknoc

All parts can be found at http://members.xoom.com/nicknoc/

Part 3 of 11

******

Starry Nights Motel
Scully's room
10.55PM


Scully turned first the hot, then the cold water faucet on.  She
couldn't remember the last time she had looked forward to a bath so
much.  Once again, she blessed the fact that Mulder had managed to
find a motel that had recently been refurbished.  Her bath was not
only deep, but it had spa jets in it.  This was going to be good.

She brought her cell phone into the bathroom with her, feeling
slightly foolish as she turned it on and placed it next to the tub.
She hadn't spoken to Mulder all day.  Well okay, she had spoken to
him a number of times, but she hadn't really *spoken* to him.

They'd only been apart for two days, and it dismayed her slightly
that she missed him so much.  Not that she would ever tell him that. 
It didn't seem normal that two people who were merely work partners
would feel bereft if they didn't see each other every day.  But they
were more than partners - she just wasn't sure what the more was.

As Scully undressed, she briefly toyed with the idea of calling him.
No, he would call her, she was sure.  She would prefer not to
acknowledge the deep-seated desire she had to hear his voice. 

She dipped her toe into the water, and realized it was way too hot
to get into.  Perching naked on the edge of the bath, she turned the
hot water faucet off and turned up the cold.  She pulled the brand
new bar of apple soap out of her toiletries bag, and began unwrapping
it with a reverence more suited to an box of fine chocolates.  It
was, however, her favorite soap, and a fresh bar was one of her
little indulgences.

The shrill sound of her phone echoing off the tiles brought her out
of her daydreaming.  She turned the water off and picked it up.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me."

"Hey," she answered warmly. "How are you, Mulder?"

"Tired, exhausted, drained, annoyed.  I interviewed two brothers,
and another young man today. The young man seemed to fit the profile,
and for a number of the abduction dates he was unable to tell us his
whereabouts. Still, that's understandable; some of the dates
stretched back over a year. He claims he did some shopping and saw a
movie on the day Sarah Phillips was abducted, and we're looking into
that. The two brothers had a watertight alibi, and yet I can't get
rid of this niggling feeling I have about them. Then again, I may be
clutching at straws out of desperation.  The reality is that I've
come up with nothing of value, although we still have a number of
other people to interview. You?"

"I did the autopsy on Sarah Phillips this afternoon. She was
pregnant, Mulder, only she was pregnant *before* she was abducted.
She was about three and a half months pregnant when she was killed.
She was stabbed four times in the stomach, in the same pattern as
previously." Her own stomach threatened to rebel as her mind vividly
replayed the details of the tiny, mangled fetus. She had been so
shaken after the autopsy that she had sat in a cafe for an hour
sipping hot water with a slice of lemon, her mind blank and her eyes
vacant. 

"I also got the results back from yesterday's autopsy," she
continued. "There were traces of bovine blood around the entrances of
all four stab wounds. I should get the results from Sarah Phillips'
autopsy tomorrow, and I expect to find the same thing."

"You think the knife used to kill her was also used to slaughter
cows?" His voice rumbled in a familiar way in her ear, and her
tension eased with the familiar to and fro of their conversation.

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. No bovine blood was found
deeper in the wounds, only on the surface skin. I think the blood was
painted onto the skin. I also found the origin of the dust in her
hair. Ashes, Mulder. Ashes from a cow."

Mulder paused to process the information before answering. "Sounds
ritualistic. Maybe a cult is involved in this.  I recall that a
number of pagan rituals involved the sacrifice of cows."

"No, I don't think this has pagan, or cult overtones, Mulder,"
Scully replied. "I think these killings have religious overtones. The
knife wounds were in the shape of a cross - one for each point of the
cross.  Sacrifice of cows, specifically a red heifer, is prominent in
early Judaism and Christianity. An Old Testament priest would spread
ashes from the red heifer upon water, and the water was then used to
cleanse all things and people in temple worship. I think we're
dealing with a religious fanatic," she concluded, unable to keep a
slight note of triumph from her voice. It was not often that she got
in first with a theory, and she always felt slightly jubilant when
she did so.

"Red heifer," he mused. "Do you think that's how the red hair fits
in?"

"I don't know," she admitted, feeling slightly deflated. "I don't
know how the religious implications fit in with the hair. You can
figure out that part, Mulder. I think my brain is starting to fall
asleep."

He chuckled slightly. "Lucky you. Mine's just starting to wake up.
So, what are you wearing, Scully?"

She blushed. "I'm about to get in the bath," she replied in a
neutral tone, not answering his question directly.

"The bath? Right now?"

"Right now. I'm just waiting for the water to cool a bit."

There was a long pause at the end of the phone. "Just for the sake
of accuracy, Agent Scully, does this mean that you are naked?"

She was glad he couldn't see her glowing red cheeks, but she refused
to let him sense her embarrassment. "As a newborn, Agent Mulder," she
replied smoothly.

Again he paused.  "For the first time ever, Scully, I think I'm
speechless."

She laughed. "Mulder, if you really *were* speechless, you would
have said nothing."

"Yeah, well that's as close to speechless as I get. Why are you
having a bath at 11.00 at night?"

Scully tested the water again with her toes, and concluding it was
bearable, stepped in. 

"Because I only just got home, and I know I won't get to sleep
unless I can relax.  A bath is the best way I know of relaxing."

"The second best," murmured Mulder.

Scully laughed in surprise. "Well, as there is no eligible male in
sight, I'll have to take the bath. Besides -" she sucked in her
breath sharply as she lowered herself into the tub, realizing
belatedly that the water was still too hot.

"Scully, are you okay?" Mulder asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she grunted with a grimace. "The water's a bit too hot,
is all. Owww!"

She looked down at her stomach, which had turned a bright pink in
protest.  Her nipples had formed into stiff peaks at the change in
temperature.

"Scully, I'm sure that must be bad for you."

"What must be bad for me?" she asked, still distracted by the heat
of the water.

"Submersing yourself in boiling water."

"Mulder, it's *not* boiling.  I think I'd realize if I was boiling
myself to death."

"Well the frog didn't."

Scully frowned in bemusement.  What *was* he talking about?

"Mulder, I swear you get more and more bizarre by the day.  What
frog?"

He sighed in mock exasperation. "Scully, surely you know of the
'frog in boiling water' experiment.  They put a frog in water and
then raised the temperature of the water by one degree every few
minutes.  The frog kept adjusting to the temperature change and
rather than jumping out when the water got too hot, it boiled to
death."

"Mulder, that is cruel."

"Don't blame me, Scully. I didn't perform the experiment, I just
heard about it on the Discovery Channel."

She shook her head. Figures. She was surprised his brain had room
for work related issues, it was so stuffed full of useless trivia.

"Well, thank you for sharing that bit of information, Mulder, but I
don't really think it is applicable.  In my case, the water will be
cooling, not heating up, so I'm sure I'll be fine."

He chuckled into her ear.  "So Scully, how high is the water?"

"Why, Mulder?" she asked warily.

"So I can get the picture in my head right. You know how I dislike
inaccuracy."

"Mulder, I'm not sure I approve of you picturing me in the bath."

"Scully, if you disapproved, you wouldn't have left your phone on
while you were getting into the bath."

She sighed, a little embarrassed. The man was sometimes *too*
perceptive.

"It's chest high, Mulder."

"Above the nipples or below?" he murmured into her ear.

Scully felt a jolt of arousal at his words.  This was getting into
dangerous territory, but she knew she was going to answer. Damn, he
had the sexiest voice when he whispered into her ear like that.  Her
mouth felt dry as she stammered, "Umm...just below."

"Are your nipples erect?"

"Mulder..." she murmured weakly in protest.

"Well, I thought they might be cold, seeing as they're above the
water," he explained. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"You're right, they're cold. Very cold," she added, in a slightly
huskier voice than usual. If Mulder had been in the same room as her -
not that he *would* have, given she was in the bath - she would have
put a stop to this conversation long ago. But she found it hard to
resist flirting with him when he was safely ensconced in a motel room
some 200 miles away.

He chuckled softly.  "So where are you going to start, Scully?"

"Start?" she asked hazily.  The water was having its expected
soporific effect on her, and she was finding it harder to follow his
erratic train of thought.

"Washing yourself, Scully. What's the game plan?"

"Well, Mulder, I didn't really formulate a game plan.  I guess I was
going to fly by the seat of my pants, so to speak."

"Hmmm, sounds like you might need some help."

"Help?"

"Help, suggestions.  You sound tired, Scully.  Why don't you let me
do the thinking?  I suggest we start at the feet."

Scully blinked in surprise. *We*?  

"Okay, Mulder.  Let's start with the feet." Picking up the soap, she
pulled one of her feet up onto the opposing knee and began to lather
it with her free hand.

"Are your feet sore, Scully?  I bet you've been doing a lot of
walking around today.  Y'know, if I was there I'd offer to give you a
foot massage.  Would you take me up on it?"

"What - in the bath?"

"No, after the bath.  I wouldn't be brave enough to interrupt your
bathtime."

"I think I would, Mulder. That sounds nice. My feet are done now."

"Okay," he said huskily, "Now your calves.  They're probably just as
tired. Make sure you rub them firmly to release some of the tension
in the muscles."

She ran her hand over her smooth calf muscles, and was unable to
stop herself from imagining it was his hand doing the rubbing.

"Mulder," she murmured, "how will I explain this if I drop the phone
into the bath?"

"You'll just say you were getting some much needed advice from your
partner. Now your thighs, Scully.  Don't forget your inner thighs."

She swallowed and wondered what part of her body he was going to
suggest next.  She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed
when he next said, "Time for your arms, Scully.  Don't forget your
armpits," he added teasingly. "Did you know that in 16th Century
England they used charcoal as a deodorant?"

"Let me guess - Discovery Channel?"

He laughed. "Of course, Scully. Have you finished your arms?  I
think the back of your neck should be next. Have you put your hair up?"

"Hmm," she confirmed, "In a clip.  Bits of it are falling down,
though. It always does.  I never come out of the bath with completely
dry hair.  Okay, I think the back of my neck is clean now."

"Your stomach then, Scully."  His deep voice rumbled in her ear, and
she shivered slightly at the intimacy of it.

She ran the soap smoothly over her stomach, nearly losing hold of it
as it slipped over her flesh.

"What kind of stomach do you have, Scully?" 

"Scarred," she replied bluntly.

He paused. "I was talking about the shape," he continued eventually.
"Washboard, rounded, concave?"

"Definitely rounded," she said with conviction.

"Good, I hate skinny stomachs.  It's not natural."

She laughed, knowing full well that if she'd said 'washboard' he
would have claimed to hate rounded stomachs.  She was also sure that
he remembered exactly what kind of stomach she had - she'd seen him
peeking in the decontamination shower.

"So, any other identifying features on your stomach, Scully?"

"Why Mulder?  So you can ID my body?"  She'd meant it as a joke, but
as soon as she said it, she regretted it.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Finally he muttered,
"Way to bring the mood down, Scully."

"Sorry Mulder.  It was a joke.  Probably not in the best taste.  I
have a mole near my belly button - a dark, flat one.  And some other
ones scattered around, but I only like the one near my belly button."

He laughed. "You have favorites?"

"Well I have a lot, Mulder.  It comes with the territory if you have
fair skin like mine. And I hate most of them, but the one near my
belly button is...cute. I think my stomach is clean now, Mulder." 
Her hand gripped the soap a little harder, in anticipation of what he
was going to say next.

"Breasts, Scully.  We can't neglect your breasts."

She swallowed, and found herself unable to come up with a response,
so instead she started lathering her breasts.  She could hear his
breathing in her ear, sounding heavier and faster than it had at the
beginning of the conversation.  She wondered if he was touching
himself, and then quickly turned her mind from considering that. If
he was, she didn't want to know. Really, she didn't.

He wasn't.

Instead he had one white-knuckled hand gripping the steering wheel,
and the other gripping his phone.  If he'd had a third hand, however,
he *would* have been touching himself.

He hadn't quite got around to telling Scully that he was on his way
back from Rockhampton.  That was the initial purpose of his call, and
he wasn't sure how the conversation had got away from him so quickly.
Oh, yes he was. It was the bath. His glorious, gorgeous partner,
naked in a bath. Waiting for his call.

He battled with his mind, in an effort to concentrate on the road,
rather than on the picture in his head.  It wouldn't do to die now. 
Scully and he were finally razing the walls that existed between
them.  Well, maybe 'razing' was too strong.  Dismantling brick by
brick might be more appropriate.

His mind wandered back to Scully's breasts. Their careful wall
dismantling had been set aside for one brief, blazing moment last
weekend. She had fallen asleep with her head on his lap, as she had
so many times before. This time he allowed himself to tuck in behind
her, wrap his arms around and fall asleep too.

He had woken a number of hours later, to find his hand clasped
firmly over her breast.  He should have moved it the moment he
realized, he knew that, but he couldn't.  Her breast felt so soft,
even through the rough cotton of her blouse, and he was simply unable
to direct his hand to move.  The closest he got was a stirring of his
fingers, which would have been construed by anyone as a caress,
rather than an attempt to remove his hand.  

It was possibly the stroking of his thumb that woke her.  He felt it
the moment she became aware of his hand.  She stiffened, and he lay
there expecting her to sit bolt upright and fling a few choice words
at him.  But to his eternal surprise, she didn't.  Instead, she
relaxed again, and fell asleep to the ever so slight stroking of his
thumb.

It was that incident that gave him the confidence to continue this
conversation.  He wanted to move on to the next stage of their
relationship, and although he wasn't going to push her, he was not
above flirting if the opportunity arose.  And a naked Dana Scully in
a bath was a prime opportunity as far as he was concerned.

"So Scully, is there room in that bath for two?"

"Two what, Mulder?" she asked, faking innocence as to his meaning.

"People, Scully.  People about the size of you and me."

"Gee, I'm sorry, Mulder. This bath is only big enough for one. And
in any event, you're at least 200 miles away."

"Uhh, actually Scully, make that about 20 miles."

He heard the splashing of the water as she sat bolt upright. 

"What?!?" she squeaked.

"I couldn't sleep, and...well, I missed you. So I thought I'd drive
back tonight, rather than tomorrow morning.  You don't mind, do you?"

"Uh, no. No, that's fine, Mulder."  She sounded flummoxed, and he
grinned at her discomfort. His grin faded when he realized that he
still hadn't told her the bad news.

"Um, Scully? There's something else.  I tried to call reception, but
they were closed, and I kind of don't have a room. I was thinking
maybe we could share?  Just for tonight."

"You want to share my room?" she repeated back to him, slightly
incredulous.

"Just for tonight," he said. "I'll get a room first thing in the
morning. Don't you have a sofa in your room?  I can sleep on that."

He knew she didn't, but it was the thought that counted.

"Mulder," she said, exasperated, "You *know* I don't have a sofa in
my room.  I can't believe you!  What if I'd been asleep? What if my
phone was off?  What would you have done then?"

He grinned. He loved it when her voice went all high and squeaky. 
"I guess I would have woken you up and begged forgiveness." He paused
for effect before continuing, "Did I mention that I miss you, Scully?"

The silence on the end of the phone was deafening, but he knew if he
said nothing she'd cave.  Finally she did.

"Fine, Mulder, you can share my room. When will you be here?" she
asked.

"Give me about half an hour," he replied, a wide smile spreading
across his face.

Scully placed the phone on the floor by the bath and groaned in
embarrassment. He'd tricked her! She covered her face with her hands,
but was unable to stop a smile growing. That conversation was not
just flirtation, it was out and out seduction. And *goddamm*, she'd
enjoyed it.

With feelings hovering between embarrassment and arousal, she
flicked the switch to turn on the spa jets.  As she turned to adjust
the towel she had placed behind her head, a firm jet of water hit her
fairly between the legs. She gasped at the sensation and froze in
that spot. That felt good. 

She briefly considered her options. She could ignore the potential
of the spa jets, or she could lie back and enjoy. She chose the
latter. It wouldn't do to be still aroused when Mulder arrived. She
might do something she would regret in the morning.


True to his word, Mulder pulled up outside her room half an hour
later. She was still in her bathrobe, having only just jumped out of
the bath when she heard his car pull up.

"You look clean, Scully," he murmured.

She eyed his rumpled clothes and stubble. "You don't, Mulder. Why
don't you take a shower?  I haven't drained the bath yet, so you'll
need to do that."

"What happened to my greeting kiss?" he inquired ingratiatingly. 

She smirked. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, Mulder? I
don't think so." 

He laughed, accepting her insult good-naturedly and went into the
bathroom immediately.  She was surprised when she didn't hear the
bath drain; instead she heard the sound of sloshing water as he got in.
 
Contemplating the thought of him sharing her bathwater was arousing,
although not as arousing as the thought of him sharing her *bath*. 
As if reading her mind, she heard him call, "Hey Scully, it's your
turn to help me wash!"

"In your dreams, Mulder," was her deadpan reply.

"Every night, Scully," he called back, and she couldn't help but
laugh.

******

Scully's room
3.25AM

Mulder blinked to clear the haze from his eyes. He'd just been hit
gently across his face. When he dragged himself out of his sleep, he
realized that Scully had flung her hand across the bed, and it was
now resting on his neck. She whimpered slightly, her brow furrowed,
and he picked up her hand and gently kissed it.

"Scully, it's okay," he whispered.

She sighed softly, settling down, and he brushed away a wisp of red
hair that had fallen across her face.  He knew he was taking
advantage of her sleeping state, but he was unable to resist his urge
to caress her.  He wondered what she would say if she knew how often
he stroked and kissed her when she had fallen asleep on his lap while
watching TV. Sometimes he wondered if she was actually awake, and
just hiding behind the curtain of sleep, so they could both maintain
the facade of business as usual.

He shifted closer to her, and muttered "Roll over Scully."

Obediently she did so, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled
her back into his stomach. He savored the feeling of her warm, soft
body pressed into him. Her legs were bare below her short pajamas,
and he rubbed his legs against them, relishing the feeling of flesh
on flesh. She wriggled her bottom into his groin, obviously seeking
his warmth. Careful, Scully, he thought with a grin. That's inviting
trouble. He nuzzled his face into her hair, and within minutes he was
asleep.

End Part 3

From: "Nicknoc" <nicknoc@hotmail.com>

Stain of Purity
By Nicknoc

All parts can be found at http://members.xoom.com/nicknoc/


Part 4 of 11


Greentown Police Station
Greentown Indiana
April 11th, 2000
11.10AM

Mulder and Scully had spent the last two hours sifting through the
files they had gathered. Scully had taken Mulder through her autopsy
reports, and as they pondered the evidence, he absentmindedly cracked
open sunflower seeds with his teeth.

"Both girls were pregnant, but only one of them was pregnant before
she was abducted.  Caroline Becker was only six weeks pregnant -
that's not enough to be visible is it, Scully?"

She shook her head. "No. Really, she may not have even been aware of
it herself. Fear and stress can cause a missed period. Then again,
she was obviously raped by him, so she would have suspected.  The
question is - if she suspected she was pregnant, would she have kept
it to herself, or told him, maybe as a ploy to gain his sympathy?"

"I think we can assume he knew. He killed her by stabbing her in the
abdomen. The focus of the knife wounds was her womb.  Likewise with
Sarah Phillips. She was abducted just over a week ago. You estimated
her time of death to be three days before her body was found, so she
was killed shortly after she was abducted.  Either the killer noticed
she was pregnant, or she told him in the hope that this knowledge
would prevent him from harming her."

"And instead it seems this was what got her killed," said Scully
numbly.

Mulder ran his hands over his face and rubbed at his eyes. "It
appears that way," he sighed. "As soon as he discovered the girls
were pregnant, he killed them. I think their pregnancy was a symbol
to him that they were unclean, no longer chaste.  The girls were
required for some sort of religious ritual, and they were worthless
once they were tainted."

"Or maybe they were killed as a sacrifice," offered Scully.

"That doesn't make sense. If the killer was sacrificing girls, you
would think that more than two bodies would have turned up by now. In
any event, I am convinced by the way they were killed that he knew
about their pregnancy, and that was the reason for their death."

She shook her head, stubbornly. "We can't be sure that he knew they
were pregnant, Mulder. Neither girl was visibly pregnant." She
sighed. "And what about Caroline's head injury?  He almost ripped off
half her scalp. She wasn't the natural redhead, remember?"

Mulder nodded. "I don't know the significance of that, Scully," he
admitted with frustration. He felt as though it was important, but he
wasn't sure why. "You said that it wasn't that obvious that she
wasn't a natural redhead - that she had naturally auburn hair anyway.
But maybe he did notice. Maybe he was pissed off that she had 'fooled
him' into thinking she was a real redhead. But I still think the key
is their pregnancies. I think the scalp injury was possibly done in
the course of the struggle."

"I didn't find much evidence of a struggle though, Mulder. 
Although," she said, her mind ticking over, "perhaps that is why.
Maybe the pain of her scalp being torn caused her to pass out, which
is why there were no defense injuries."

Mulder nodded in agreement.

"What about the Harper brothers?  Have you found anything more on
them? Or David Sharp?"

"Not really. Although, David Sharp did go to school with Sarah
Phillips when they were younger, before his family moved to
Rockhampton. He said he couldn't remember her. We've got a photo of
him from the accident, and we've got someone interviewing the
neighbors of Sarah Phillips' again, asking them if they recognize
him. In the meantime, we're still trying to get some more information
on the Harper sister's baby. There are no records of her giving birth
in Rockhampton, but I've got someone searching the county records. As
far as I'm aware, the investigation team still hasn't located Bill
Harper's whereabouts. He's the other brother," added Mulder. "He's
apparently in Europe somewhere, so he's probably irrelevant to this
investigation. But I just think it's important that we place him."

Scully squeezed his hand quickly. "Why don't you put them under
surveillance? You obviously have a feeling about them. Following your
gut instinct usually works."

He shrugged. "We don't have any evidence that it might be them. No
more to suggest that it is them, rather than David Sharp, or...well
at this stage, *anyone*. I won't be able to convince Harradine to
place a surveillance team on the basis of my gut instinct alone.
Especially when the Harper brothers have watertight alibis for both
Sarah's and Caroline's abductions."

Scully nodded, realizing he was right.

They both looked up when an officer entered the room, holding a
file. "Agent Scully, the results from Sarah Phillips' autopsy have
just come in."

"Thanks." She took the file from him, and began perusing the
results. "Bovine blood," she murmured. "Oh! Mulder...the blood type
of Sarah's baby doesn't match that of the father."

She met his quizzical eyes. "They took his blood as part of the
initial investigation into her abduction last week. He wasn't really
a suspect, but I guess they were covering all possibilities."

He blanched. "What are we going to say to him?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't really
want to say anything unless we think it's necessary to the
investigation. I mean, the man just lost his wife...to find out the
baby wasn't his..."

They both sat in silence, contemplating the devastation this news
would wreak on a man they didn't even know.

"Well, I guess we should go and interview her parents and husband. I
suppose in the interest of time we should go separately. I'll
interview the husband if you want," Scully said, obviously reluctant.

Mulder looked at her with compassion. He knew she was finding this
hard. He had heard the crack in her voice the night before when she
told him the second victim had been three months pregnant, and he'd
wondered how she had coped with the autopsy.  When they had woken up
together this morning, she'd been slightly shy, but he thought he'd
detected gratefulness in her eyes that he'd been there to stave off
nightmares.

He was not going to let her interview the husband, or the victim's
parents, alone.

"No, Scully, I think we should do this together."  He didn't offer
any explanation as to why, but he saw the relief in her features.

"Okay, let's go," she said.

******

Betty's Diner 
Between Rockhampton and Greentown
3.30PM

Scully picked at her chicken salad sandwich absentmindedly. They
hadn't had time for lunch, and frankly the last few hours had been so
emotionally draining that she had not felt like eating anyway.

Sarah Phillips' parents had been distraught and accusatory. Sarah's
mother had almost reached the stage of hysteria, screaming at them
"Why haven't you caught him yet?" and "What are you doing to end
this?" and more cuttingly, "How many more babies have to die before
you finally do something?!"

Both Scully and Mulder knew that sometimes it was better to allow a
person vent their pain and anger, and they sat there dutifully,
allowing the accusations to rain down on them.  When Mrs. Parker had
calmed down, they began the same questions they had asked too many
parents in the last few days.

Once again, they were unable to draw out any information that would
lead them closer to the killer. 

The interview with Sarah's husband was even more distressing,
especially after Scully spied a new crib in the corner of the room,
with a bow still attached. Mark Phillips was at a loss to explain how
his wife had been abducted so easily. He had been at work, and he was
not sure of her whereabouts on that day. She could have been anywhere
- taking a walk, shopping, gardening. Nobody had seen her, except for
one sighting that morning, and there were no signs of a struggle in
the house. The house had been locked when he arrived home from work.

Neither she nor Mulder had the heart to inquire about the
possibility of Sarah having an affair. As if in a silent
understanding they avoided the subject, neither of them convinced
that it was relevant to the immediate investigation. Not yet, anyway.

They left his house, despondent.

Now, Scully picked at her food, and Mulder gulped down his burger
and chips, watching her. 

Finally, she looked up. "Mulder, will you please stop staring at me?"

"I'm just wondering what you're thinking."

"Nothing, Mulder."

"You don't look as though you're thinking about nothing."

She sighed. "Mulder, since when do I have to reveal every thought I
have to you?"

He looked hurt, and she immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry,
Mulder. I'm just formulating an idea. When it's done, I'll let you
know," she said with a smile.

He shrugged, and went back to eating, this time staring out the
window at the parking lot.

She glanced at him, feeling a little guilty at her brush off. She'd
already formulated her idea, but she knew he wouldn't like it. She
was not about to tell him *now*, giving him the drive back to the
station to try and talk her out of it. He would just have to wait.

They had reached that frustrating point in an investigation where
they had examined all the evidence, propounded a number of theories,
and were left with an incomplete hand, waiting for the dealer to 
dispense the winning card. Only in this case the winning card would 
be another murder. And Scully was not willing to wait for another 
death just to get more evidence.

She had decided to go undercover to lure the killer out.

******

Greentown Police Station
5.45PM

Scully waited until Harradine had finished outlining the evidence
they had amassed, before she spoke.  She looked around at the team of
police officers - they all looked weary and frustrated.

She stood to speak, grateful for the heels that gave her a few extra
inches. She was aware, by their glances and smiles, that some of them
were unable to overcome their bias against women in law enforcement,
and being small didn't help.

"It seems to me that we are stuck," she began in measured tones. She
deliberately avoided Mulder's eye as she spoke. "We have narrowed the
area where we believe the killer resides to Rockhampton, but we have
little forensic evidence, and only conjecture as to his motives.  We
have two choices. Our first choice is to wait for a further murder or
abduction, and hope that the killer slips up and leaves more
evidence.  I know nobody in this room wants there to be another
murder. Or I can go undercover in Rockhampton. I believe that at this
stage, this is our only option."

The room was silent, and all eyes turned to Mulder, as if realizing
that he was going to have objections.

He did.

"I believe that is unnecessary," he said in a controlled voice. "We
can find him on the evidence we have."

Scully met his eyes with determination. "I disagree," she said
evenly. "If that was the case, we would have found him by now. This
is the only way Mulder. You know I'm right."

She looked at him with a silent plea. Don't argue with me in front
of them Mulder. Save it for later.

He dropped his eyes. "I think we should consider this further," he
muttered.

Harradine cleared his throat. "I agree with Agent Scully that this
may be our only option. Why don't we think about it tonight, and I'll
look into what surveillance and tracking equipment will be required
for Agent Scully. Woodford, why don't you start coming up with an
appropriate cover for Agent Scully - if this is the course of action
we decide upon," he added, glancing at Mulder.

The officers filed out of the room, aware that they still had a few
more hours of work before they could go home to their families. 
Scully caught Harradine before he left.

"Is there a spare patrol car I could borrow, just for this evening? 
I need to run some errands."

Harradine nodded. "I'll arrange that for you. Come with me."

Looking back over her shoulder at Mulder still sitting in the middle
of the room, she said, "Mulder, I've got some things to do. I'll see
you in an hour or so."

He didn't respond, but she knew he had heard her. She also knew he
was pissed with her. She felt slightly ashamed about springing this
on him in front of everyone, but if she'd told him earlier he would
have argued with her until he was black and blue in the face.  She
couldn't face an argument then, and she didn't want one now. 
Although she *did* have shopping to do, and she could have simply
dropped him off at the motel and then taken the car. But maybe in an
hour's time he would have cooled off enough to discuss this calmly,
she rationalized.

After dropping Harradine at his house, she headed to the local
shopping mall. She needed a some new clothes for her undercover
persona. She had only brought her 'professional' clothes with her,
and none were appropriate if she was going to pass for a women in her
twenties.

Two hours later she left the shopping mall, the new owner of a tight
pair of faded jeans, a Wonderbra, a few cute floral blouses that she
had picked up in a retro sixties shop and some funky shoes.  She also
had some curlers, hair gel and a curling iron. Finally, she'd picked
up a fake navel ring and some body glitter at the last minute. The
last item had been a pure impulse buy - she wasn't even sure what to
do with it, but it seemed 'young'.

As she drove back to the motel, she wondered whether Mulder had
calmed down. 

******

Starry Nights Motel
Greentown, Indiana
Scully's room


Mulder looked up as Scully entered the room.  He had been staring
unfocussed at the TV, slouched against the headboard of the bed,
eating pizza.  When she walked in, some of the tension left his body.
She had been gone longer than he expected, and her phone had been
turned off.

She frowned. "Mulder, what are you doing here?"

"They're full."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.  "Full," she repeated.

"Yes, full.  They have a school group visiting for the night.
They'll have a spare room for me tomorrow night."

He sat on the bed, staring at her. He wasn't impressed with her
efforts to avoid discussing this with him, and he was pissed that
she'd ambushed him. She'd known he would disagree with her plan, so
she'd waited to tell him in front of everyone else. Although he had
too much respect for her to engage her in an argument in front of the
others, he wasn't going to let her get away with that.  

"Why didn't you tell me what you were planning on doing *before* you
announced it at the meeting?" he asked icily, folding his arms in
front of his chest.

"Because you would have objected," she responded simply, dropping
her packages on the table.

"Damn right! And I would have had good reasons for doing so," he
said, his voice rising in pitch a little.

"I don't believe you do have good reasons, and in any event, it's
not your place to try and talk me out of it," Scully answered with
controlled anger.

"Dammit Scully, how dare you suggest that I have no right to express
my feelings over this!"

She glanced at him dismissively, and walked to the bathroom. "I'm
going to take a shower."

"Wait."

The bite in his voice was enough to stop her in her tracks.  She
turned and regarded him with cool blue eyes, her face impassive. 
"What, Mulder?"

"We need to talk about this.  I simply cannot see why it is
necessary for you to put yourself on the line. This isn't even our
case, we're just helping, goddammit!  Besides, I don't believe it
will work," he said, grasping at straws. "You're not the right age
group.  He's after younger women."

"I can look younger," she said evenly.

"That's not the point, dammit!" he yelled, unaware that she flinched
at his raised voice.  "The point is that you don't have to do this. 
So why are you going to?  What are you trying to prove, Scully?!  It
is not necessary for the conduct of this case that you use yourself
as live bait.  We can catch him without doing that."

"Well, we haven't so far," she countered calmly.

"Scully, don't you think we've been through enough lately?" he asked
in a calmer voice. "What if he does take you, and something goes
wrong?  Why are you willing to risk that?"

"Because it's my job, Mulder," she said in a firm voice. "And it is
*not* your job to tell me what to do."

"Strictly speaking, Scully, it is. I am the senior agent, and I could
forbid you to do this."  He knew he was treading on dangerous ground,
but he was unable to stop images of her abduction racing across his
mind, and he was desperate to steer her from this course of action.

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that what you are going to do, Mulder?" she
asked in a quiet, controlled voice.

"I'm just trying to get you to reconsider. This is dangerous.  You
could get hurt, or worse...I could never forgive myself."

As soon as those last words left his mouth, he knew it was precisely
*the* wrong thing to say.  She snapped.

"Goddammit, Mulder!  You are *not* here to protect me.  I am a
Federal Agent and I know the risks of my job.  I make my own choices
and if I choose to do this, then dammit, I will!  How dare you assume
that somehow my choices are your fault!  How dare you! I can look
after myself, Mulder, and I am good at my job." She glared at him, as
if defying him to say anything further, and then stormed into the
bathroom.

He followed her, only to have the door slammed in his face.  Resting
his forehead on the door, he sighed deeply.  That did not go well.  

How could he explain to her why he didn't want her to do this? 
Surely she knew that she was *everything* to him.  Dammit, he'd as
good as told her so...he'd told her she was his only constant.  Why
didn't she realize that if anything happened to her...well, it would
be the end of him.  Didn't she feel the same way?

A small voice inside him pointed out that she probably did feel the
same way about him, yet *she* didn't dictate to him how to do his
job.  

He groaned against the door.  He was a fool.  He knew in his heart
that he had to separate his feelings for her from their job.  They
had a dangerous job, and he had to accept that.  But try as he might
to tamp down his feelings, he knew that when she walked out of the
bathroom, he was going to make one last ditch attempt to talk her out
of this. 


Scully grimaced as the hot water hit her.  Her body temperature had
risen a few degrees during her tirade against Mulder, and she felt as
if she was about to spontaneously combust.  The thought caused her to
smirk.  What a way to go - give Mulder one last X-file as she exited
this world.

As she washed herself, she ran over their argument in her head. 
Again, she became incensed.  How dare he try and stop her from doing
this!  He was letting his personal feelings for her get in the way of
their job, that much was clear.  It was precisely this reason that
she had resisted entering into a relationship with him for all these
years.  He appeared completely incapable of separating their working
life from the personal side of their relationship.  If it was
like this now, what would it be like if she did allow them to get
even *more* personal.

She sighed as she got out of the shower and began drying herself. 
If she was honest with herself, she didn't think consummation of
their relationship would change anything.  She couldn't feel more
deeply for him than she did already and she was sure he felt the
same.  Acknowledging their feelings wouldn't change them.

Mulder would just have to accept that they had dangerous jobs.  Bad
things could, and did, happen.  But they always managed to get
through.

With this thought in mind, she pulled on her bathrobe and opened the
door, to find Mulder inches away from her.  

"Mul-"

Before she could ask what he was doing, he clamped one hand behind
her head and pulled her towards him, bringing his lips down on hers. 
She struggled briefly, and opened her mouth to protest.  He took that
as an invitation, and she felt his hot tongue slide in.  It was her
undoing.  For too many years she had dreamed about Mulder's tongue in
her mouth, and now that she was faced with reality, she had no
strength to resist.

She groaned slightly, and rubbed her tongue against his,
experiencing its taste and texture.  In response, he tightened his
grip on her body and ran his hands over her back and bottom. She
could feel his growing erection pressed against her belly, and the
rumble of a moan deep in his chest.  He smelled of cologne and sweat,
in stark contrast to her clean soapy scent.  His mouth devoured hers,
but when he pulled back to shower kisses over her jawline she came to
her senses. 

"Mulder," she said sharply, wresting herself out of his arms.

He looked at her, his previously wild eyes suddenly blank.

"Take a shower, Mulder.  Preferably a cold one," she added cuttingly.

She watched his retreating back, and then quickly slipped into her
pajamas, trying not to notice the trembling of her hands.  She lay in
the bed, plucking mindlessly at the comforter that was pulled up
under her chin.  She wasn't angry, just upset.  She wasn't really
sure why he'd kissed her.  Had he thought that by doing so he could
erase their argument?  Or make her agree with him? A kiss was not
something that should be used as a pawn in an argument.

She heard him come out of the bathroom, but didn't turn around to
look at him. He didn't get in the bed with her, and finally he
cleared his throat and spoke. 

"Scully, I'll sleep in the car tonight if-"

She cut him off. "Mulder, don't be stupid. Get in the bed."

She felt the bed sink as he lowered his weight onto it.  The
mattress jiggled while he turned the bedside lamp off and got
comfortable.  After a long period of uncomfortable silence, he said
in a small voice, "Scully, I am *so* sorry. That was inexcusable."

"Yes, it was, Mulder," she replied bluntly.  She was not going to
let him charm his way out of this one.

He sighed. "I know I have no right to tell you not to go undercover,
Scully, no matter what I might think about it personally. But, I...I
care about you."

"I know you do, Mulder, but that is not an excuse. I care about you,
but I don't prevent you from doing your job in a professional manner
just because I'm frightened of what may happen to you."

"Well, that's not entirely true, Scully. You try to stop me from
ditching you. You have some weird idea that I always get hurt when
you're not around." 

She smiled against her better judgement.  She was still angry at
him, and she didn't want him to joke his way into her good books.
"Ditching me is *not* doing your job in a professional manner.
G'night Mulder."

Her meaning was clear - conversation closed.

End Part 4

From: "Nicknoc" <nicknoc@hotmail.com>

Stain of Purity
By Nicknoc

All parts can be found at http://members.xoom.com/nicknoc/

Part 5 of 11


Starry Nights Motel
12 April 1999
8.30AM

The next morning Mulder booked himself into the adjoining room. 

As he entered the motel restaurant, he spotted Scully sitting at a
window table. The sun reflected off her shiny hair, and he wondered
why the rest of the people in the room weren't as transfixed by the
sight as he was.

He rubbed his eyes, still grainy with sleep. He hadn't been able to
sleep after their argument, especially as his feelings of remorse and
guilt were competing with lust. His mind kept replaying their kiss,
over and over, and he had only been able to reduce his erection by
thinking of dead cats.  He'd picked up that erection-shrinking tip
from the Internet, and had used it ever since. Unfortunately, the
remainder of the night had been spent tossing and turning under the
influence of mangled felines. 

He shook his head to discard the residual images, and let his eyes
rest once more on Scully. He hadn't intended to kiss her. He'd been
meaning to talk with her, quietly and reasonably. But when he'd been
confronted with her, newly scrubbed and smelling of apples, something
else had taken over.  Call it lust, call it love, call it an
inability to express his feelings in words...call it what you will,
the only thing he knew was that it was possibly the biggest mistake
he'd ever made.  

The look in her eyes when she pulled back was enough to make him
wish the mothmen *had* got him.  She was pissed at him, and she was
hurt.  And he knew why, because he felt the same hurt.  Their first
*real* kiss should have been special.  It should not have been a kiss
forced upon her in the middle of a goddamm argument. 

When he approached her table she didn't look up, but he could tell
that she sensed him by the way her shoulders stiffened.

He stood there uncertainly. "I got myself another room."

"Good," she responded quietly, still reading the file laid out in
front of her.

When he didn't sit down, she looked up and added, "I don't relish
the idea of explaining to Accounts why we were sharing a room. There
are enough rumors about us as it is."

He smiled slightly, feeling the heavy weight he had been carrying
lift slightly.  She didn't appear too angry.

He sat down and picked up the menu. "I got the adjoining room again.
Is that okay?"

This time she smiled. "It's okay, Mulder."

"Ahh, Scully...about last night-"

She cut him off before he could continue. "Mulder, conversations
that begin with the phrase 'about last night' are destined to be
awful.  So let's not talk about it, okay?"

"Scully, I don't think we can ignore it."

She stared down at her hands that were splayed on the table before
she responded in measured tones. "Mulder, I just don't see any
benefit in rehashing the events of last night. We both expressed our
views, our views differed, and there is nothing more either of us can
add. I'm not suggesting we *ignore* it, I'm just suggesting we move
on."

"Move on," he repeated dumbly.

"Yes, move on." She picked up the file, and continued her perusal. 

Mulder furrowed his brow in confusion. What did 'move on' mean?  Was
she talking about their kiss, or their disagreement? He was talking
about the kiss, but he had a feeling she was talking about their
argument. Or maybe she was referring to both.  And in which case -
how do they 'move on' from that kiss?  Move on and ignore it?  Or
move on and do it again?

His musings were interrupted by the waitress requesting his order.
Anxiety made him hungry, so he ordered the big breakfast with extra
hash browns.

Scully looked up, amused at his order. 

He caught her eye, and said defensively, "What?"

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head gently.

"I'm hungry," he protested.

"Obviously."

He grinned, knowing that as soon as his meal came she would pick at
the bacon.

"So what's up first, Scully?"

"We're meeting Harradine and the Investigation team to discuss my
undercover assignment.  Harradine said he should be able to set
everything up by this afternoon, and we can either drive to
Rockhampton today, or tomorrow morning."

"Okay," responded Mulder neutrally. He grabbed the local newspaper
from the next table and began reading. When his meal came, he
couldn't hide his smile when Scully nabbed a bit of bacon before he
even had a chance to take his first bite.

They were back to normal.
 
******

Back in the motel room, Scully changed into her new clothes,
scrubbed the make-up off her face and curled her hair. She hated all
her freckles showing, but it did make her look younger. She smeared a
little of the glitter on her cheekbones, and smiled at the effect. It
looked cute. After a bit of fiddling she clipped on the fake navel
ring, and then tied her blouse in a knot just above her belly button.
Luckily, it was an unusually warm day. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, Mulder almost choked on his
coffee.

"Young enough for you?" she asked with a smile, and one eyebrow
raised.

Dabbing at the coffee that had spilt on his tie, he responded with a
smirk, "Probably a bit *too* young for me, Scully. C'mere."

She walked over to stand in front of him. From his position on the
bed he was almost eye level with her belly button.  He leaned
forward, and she could feel his warm breath tickling the flesh of her
stomach.  Finally he looked up. 

"When did you get that?"

She laughed. "It's fake, Mulder."

He gripped her by the hips and turned her around. The top half of
her tattoo was showing above the waistline of her jeans.  Slowly he
traced it with his finger.  She shivered at his touch and her flesh
pebbled into goosebumps.

"Can I see the rest of it?" he asked, his voice gravelly.

She hesitated, and then undid the top two buttons of her jeans,
pulling them down slightly. His fingers hooked into the waistband and
tugged her jeans slightly lower, catching her panties with them. Her
tattoo was now completely exposed.  She blushed. She could almost
feel the heat of his gaze, and she knew that the swell of the top of
her buttocks was visible to him.

She swallowed and closed her eyes when his finger continued to trace
the rest of her tattoo.

"I like it," he finally said huskily.

He stood up, and she quickly did up her jeans, ducking her head so
he wouldn't see her glowing cheeks.

"C'mon Mulder, they're waiting for us."

******

Greentown Police Station
10.00AM

The investigation team had arranged a house for Scully and explained
that she was enrolled in the nearby Kokomo College studying Feminism.
They had assembled an impressive array of tracking equipment to be
placed in Scully's clothing, as well as concealed cameras to be set
up on the front porch of the house, and in her bedroom.

"My bedroom?" asked Scully, with a grimace. Realizing how that could
be interpreted, she added, "I don't relish the idea of people
watching me sleep."

"Don't worry," explained Harradine with a chuckle. "First, there's
no sound on these cameras. Second, we'll have it trained on the
window, and not on the bed. So if you drool in your sleep, we won't
notice," he added with a roar of laughter that caused his belly to
shake. 

"You have to remember to bring in the tapes each day for us to
examine," added Woodford, a quiet man who had gathered the equipment.
"I'm afraid we don't have a direct feed from these cameras, so don't
rely on them if anything *does* happen. The cavalry won't be coming
to save you."

Scully smirked at his bluntness. How comforting.

"I'm going with you," said Mulder.

"Mulder," said Scully, exasperated. "As who, exactly?  My father?"

He clutched his heart. "Ooh, you wound, Scully. No, as your older
lover." 

He deliberately emphasized the work 'lover', smirking as he did so. 
She glared at him, and he laughed. "It makes sense, Scully. You had
to leave your hometown because your parents were absolutely furious
that you'd taken up with an older man.  I'll be out of town most of
the time, so I promise I won't get in the way."  He paused and then
said quietly, "It's safer, Scully. We'd all feel better."

"Mulder, I am meant to be undercover. You are investigating this
matter - you've already interviewed two prime suspects. If they see
me with you, don't you think that will blow my cover just a little?"
she asked, laying on the sarcasm thickly.

"We thought about that," Mulder admitted. "But as I said, I'll be
out of the town during the day, and I won't be seen with you at any
stage. I'll just be with you during the nights, and so long as the
blinds are drawn, nobody will see me. Please, Scully, you're putting
yourself in danger as it is. At least allow me this."

She looked around at other members of the team. Obviously he'd
discussed this with them already. Fine, if that was what it took.

"Okay," she said, resigned. 

"We've still got some things to organise," said Harradine. "I
believe Agent Mulder wanted to take another look at the places where
the bodies were found, so if you come back this afternoon, we'll have
the keys to the house for you."

******

Kiah St residence
Rockhampton, Indiana
4.30PM

The trip to Rockhampton took a couple of hours and after settling
in, Scully decided to go grocery shopping.  She might as well start
getting herself known immediately.  Rockhampton was not a large town,
and she was sure that the grapevine would soon latch on to her
presence.

"Mulder, I'm going to get the groceries. Are you okay unpacking the
rest of the things?"

Harradine had provided them with dinnerware, sheets, blankets, and
pots and pans, although the rest of the house was already furnished. 

"Why don't I come with you?"

She smiled, touched at his obvious, but misplaced, concern. "Mulder,
you're not meant to be seen with me, remember? Anyway, the point of
this little exercise is for me to get out there, and make myself
known. Don't worry, I have tracking devices in my shoes and my bra,
and I have my phone and gun with me. Stop worrying!"

He grimaced. "Okay. How long do you think you'll be?"

"I'll see you in an hour."

Scully almost did feel like a college student again, driving to the
shopping mall in the beaten up car they had been given.  She couldn't
help but glance at herself every now and then in the rear view
mirror. She'd gelled her hair after curling it, and with the window
open it had been whipped into a mass of untamed red curls.  The
glitter on her cheekbones made her feel like a completely different
person, not like the button-down Federal Agent she was so used to,
and she suddenly felt quite liberated.  She turned the music up
louder, and sang off-key all the way to the mall.

While standing in the checkout cue she struck up a conversation with
a young man behind her.  Loudly, so that all around her in the small
supermarket could hear, she proclaimed that she'd just enrolled in
college and had moved onto Kiah St.  She told him laughingly that
she'd left her hometown because she'd taken up with an older guy who
her parents disapproved of, and she was sick of them ragging her. In
the short conversation she managed to make herself as noticeable as
possible, flirting with both the guy she was talking to, and the guy
behind the counter.

After stopping to load her groceries in the car, she wandered around
the town center for a while.  She went up to a number of people and
asked them for directions to places she didn't really want to visit,
and patted as many dogs as she could.  She cooed at a couple of
babies, and chatted to some kids playing on the footpath. She was
beginning to feel like a politician.

She bought an ice-cream, and chatted to the two students behind the
counter, asking them if there were any good drinking places in town. 
They gave her the name of the place to be and be seen, and told her
they expected to see her there soon.  She assured them they would,
but had to smirk at the thought of her and Mulder 'hanging out' with
them.

By the time she got back to the car, she felt as if she'd met almost
the entire town. Or at least been seen by them.  She hadn't noticed
anyone behaving strangely - except for her; Mulder would have had a
field day if he'd witnessed her flirtations.

Scully smiled happily to herself the whole way home.  Although the
reasons for her being in this town were serious, she'd thoroughly
enjoyed her outing.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd
dressed outrageously, flirted, or even just had a normal conversation
with a stranger - liver eating mutants didn't count.

When she got home, she lugged the groceries in to find Mulder asleep
on the sofa.  She crouched down near him, and looked at him for a
while. She guessed he hadn't slept well last night.  

She looked at his lips, remembering their kiss from the night
before. Despite the circumstances, it had been a great kiss.  Hot and
salty wet, his tongue had demanded a response from her, a response
she had been more than willing to give. She leaned forward slightly,
daring herself to muster the courage to slip her tongue between his
slightly parted lips. 

She couldn't do it.  She could no more kiss Mulder out of the blue
than she could accept one of his wild theories without proof. A move
like that needed careful consideration. She got up to cook dinner.


When Mulder woke, he was greeted by a delicious smell emanating from
the kitchen.  Stretching and scratching his belly he wandered into
where Scully was putting the finishing touches on a salad.

"What's for dinner, lover?"

"Nothing, if you keep calling me that," she warned, brandishing the
salad server. 

He opened the oven and a rich garlicky smell wafted out. 

"You can take those out now, Mulder."

Grabbing a dish towel, he pulled out a large baking dish of ribs, in
a deliciously fragrant sauce.

"Mmmm, meat," he growled, caveman style.

"Actually, more bones than meat," she said. "But this is my Mom's
secret recipe, and it's worth the trouble of gnawing the meat of the
bones. Once you taste these ribs, you'll never look back."

"I believe you, Scully," he said, dipping his finger in the sauce.
She was right - if the sauce alone was any indication, these were
ribs to die for.  He watched her as she opened a bottle of wine. She
was still wearing the top that she'd knotted at her waist, and as she
twisted to undo the bottle, it rode up exposing her shooting scar.

When she looked up to find him watching her, she became self-
conscious, and released the knot in her blouse.

"So tell me Scully. Now that you've spent a day with a navel ring,
are you gonna get one?"

She sat down, and began serving the ribs. "I don't think so, Mulder.
I've had enough physical pain to last me a lifetime - why add more?"

"You had a tattoo," he said, before he could stop himself. "That
hurt didn't it?"

She smiled; a small secretive smile. "In a way."

"Some people say that the pain of a tattoo can be sexual," he said
in a low, rumbling voice. "Did you find it sexual, Scully?"

He watched as the color rose on her cheeks. 

"Do you like the ribs, Mulder?"

He laughed. "Scully, that was *the* most obvious ploy to change the
subject that I have ever heard.  Answer the question, Scully - did
getting the tattoo turn you on?"

Now she was blushing hard. They had avoided the subject of her
tattoo for many years, but he felt confident enough to raise it now.
Truth be told, the thought of Scully's tattoo almost gave him an
instant hard-on.

"Mulder, do you really want to know?"

"Uh huh," he answered, gnawing on a rib bone, all the while staring
at her intently.

"Yes, it did turn me on," she replied, before taking a large
mouthful of wine. She lowered her eyes, and began examining the
tablecloth with an intensity she usually reserved for corpses.

He grinned at her embarrassment. "Your tattoo turns me on too,
Scully."

Her head shot up, and she stared at him with wide eyes.

"Why is that so surprising, Scully?  A model of conservatism, yet
Agent Scully has a wild tattoo hidden on her lower back. It's
incongruous, and therefore it's sexy."

He could see her thinking about her next words. "I guess it's not so
surprising," she admitted finally. "I'm just surprised that you
said it."

"Hmm, it's not something that you usually say to your work partner,"
he answered with a smile.

"Why say it then?"

He leaned forward, and tugged at her hand until their fingers were
entwined. "I guess I don't think of you as just my work partner."

She dropped her eyes to look at their hands. Slowly, he ran his
thumb over hers, caressing her soft skin.  When he felt her pull back
slightly, he let go.  He wasn't going to force this with her.  If
there was one thing he knew about Scully, it was that she had to make
up her own mind. 

He went back to eating his meal. "So Scully, why have you never made
me these before?"

She looked at him, her gaze inscrutable. "I think the last time I
made these was before I joined the X-files.  I guess it's because
they take time to cook, and you and I always seem to be working late
or in some dingy motel somewhere. This is the first time in ages that
I've actually had some spare time to do some cooking."

He nodded, wondering what she expected him to say to that. In the
end, he chose levity, and said, "Well, you realize that these
are going to have to be a regular on the menu from now on?"

"Only if you're good," she replied with a small smile.

He lifted his eyebrows. "I can be *very* good, Scully," he said in a
mock-seductive voice, leaving her in no doubt as to what he was
referring.

She merely rolled her eyes at him, and changed the conversation to a
safer subject.  


After dinner, Mulder did the dishes. Scully sat curled up on one end
of the couch, reading a magazine she had found.  Her head shot up
when she heard the sound of something breaking.

"What did you break, Mulder?" she called out.

"Nothing," he replied guiltily, "...much."

She stifled a laugh. Why did it not surprise her that he had broken
something? Since they had started spending more time together they
often 
ate at her house, and he always washed up. In the last six months
she had lost two of her favorite bowls, a vase, and a number of wine
glasses.  Sometimes she thought his appendages were too big for him
to control - he dropped things or he tripped over constantly. 

Thinking about large appendages caused her mind to drift south. She
wondered if the old wives' tale was true.  He certainly had a large
nose... Thinking about Mulder's 'attributes' caused her to squirm
with a mixture of arousal and fear.  They were close; she knew that.
But the closer they got, the more nervous she became. Was this really
a good idea?

She liked the new level their relationship had reached. They were
more intimate physically and mentally, and she appreciated the
freedom they had given each other to bestow the occasional caress or
to
curl up together on the sofa without feeling uncomfortable.  But she
knew Mulder was not willing to leave it at that.  Although he was
patient with her, he wanted their relationship to go further; that
much was clear.

She just wasn't sure she was ready for that. She was ready to have
sex with him - God, she'd been ready for that for years. It was hard
to ignore the sexual energy that pulsed between them. A number of
years ago she had seriously considered the possibility of having a
purely sexual relationship with him.  But in the end, she'd known
that he meant too much to her to separate sex from emotions.

He was her best friend, faithful partner, staunch defender -
everything but lover...should he be that? 

Complications, fear and anxiety crowded her thoughts, competing for
attention. A coward's voice screamed, "Leave it alone, Mulder. 
Everything's fine the way it is, and you want to screw it up!"
Another voice, low and throbbing, called her to surrender - to his
will, to her deeper emotions, to whatever passion was driving this. 
That part of her wanted to be swept away by the tide, and washed back
to shore a different person, with Mulder as her lover.

But she wasn't ever going to be a different person. She was always
Dana Scully, and right now Dana Scully was frightened of changing
things between her and Mulder. It was odd that she should be so
scared of change. She was the person who had given up a promising
career in medicine to join the FBI. She was the person who had been
excited about being assigned to the X-Files, despite Mulder's
'spooky' reputation.  But she was older now, and she'd been through
more trauma than she ever expected would befall her. The consequence
of this was a desire to harbor in the safety of the familiar. 

Mulder was her safety net, and the thought of losing that made her
stomach roil and churn with anxiety.  There was every possibility
that a romantic relationship between them may not work.  If it
didn't, she would lose everything. If they tried, and failed, she
didn't believe they could turn back and retrieve the intimacy and
warmth they had now.

Scully was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Mulder lean
over behind her, and gently wave a steaming mug of hot chocolate in
front of her face.

"What are you reading?" he asked, hovering over her shoulder.

She clasped the mug in her hands, relishing the burning sensation.
Although the days were quite warm, the nights were still cool. Her
hands were cold, as she'd been too lazy to get up and get a sweater.
She turned her head sideways to look at him, aware of his closeness.
She could feel his heat, and smell his distinct mix of cologne and
sweat. "Just a trashy magazine," she answered, allowing her eyes to
run briefly over his stubbled face.

"Do you mind if I turn some music on?"

"Go ahead," she replied, slightly surprised that he wasn't going to
watch TV.

Mulder chose a classical music station, and then settled on the
other end of the sofa to join her reading.

Scully sipped at her chocolate, feeling inordinately pleased that he
had made it for her. It was a small gesture, but it was thoughtful,
especially as he didn't appear to have made himself one. She twisted
her body, so she could watch him from under her lids while pretending
to read.  With the lights low, his skin looked even more golden than
usual. Sometimes, when he reached for her hand, she marveled at the
difference in their skin color. She was so pale, and compared to her,
he seemed to have a perpetual tan.  She wondered what he would look
like if he *did* actually have a tan. God knows, in the seven years
she'd known him, he'd never really had an opportunity to have a
relaxing holiday in the sun, soaking up the rays.

She sighed slightly, taken with thoughts of her and Mulder somewhere
on a beach, rubbing suntan lotion onto each other's shoulders.

"Y'okay, Scully?"

She came back to earth to find him looking at her with concern.

"I'm fine, Mulder." Catching his look, she smiled softly. "No
really. I was just daydreaming. About a beach. It's been so long
since I've been to the beach."

He looked intrigued. "I can't really picture you at the beach,
Scully.  I would have thought with your skin you'd avoid the sun at
all costs."

She held up a white arm. "I'm not exactly beach material, am I?" she
said ruefully.  "When I go the beach, I wear a long-sleeved white
shirt over my bathing suit, a big-brimmed hat and I sit under an
umbrella.  But I still like it," she added wistfully. "I love the
salt in the air, and the crusty bits that form on the end of your
eyelashes. I love it when the water's so cold it's almost painful
when you first jump in, but the moment you do your heat-induced
lethargy disappears. I love watching the other people on the beach,
especially the children." Her eyes shone at an old memory. "Children
seem to take a greater delight in the ocean than adults.  They
actually shriek when the waves hit them."

"Did you shriek, Scully?"

She nodded, remembering family holidays at the beach. "I loved the
waves, but they scared me too.  Bill used to swim right out to the
big ones, and I desperately wanted to join him, but I was young and
big waves were terrifying. I'd had a healthy respect for the ocean
instilled into me by Dad. Mom would never let me go in too far and
Bill never offered to take me in with him. He was too busy flirting
with girls to want to play with his kid sister." She smirked, but the
old hurt tugged at her. 

"I'd have taken you in, Scully," Mulder said softly.

She smiled, captured for a moment by an image of her and Mulder in
the ocean, his arms wrapped around her.

"When was the last time you went to the beach, Scully?" Mulder asked.

"Too long ago. I can't really remember," she replied.

"We both have a lot of vacation leave stored up," he ventured.
"Maybe we need a visit to the beach."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Are you suggesting we go on a
vacation together, Mulder?"

He shrugged, appearing a little embarrassed. "Maybe."

She cocked her eyebrow at him, unable to suppress a small, pleased
smile. "You don't think we'd get sick of each other?"

"Not if you wear a bikini," he quipped.

She lay her head back against the sofa, considering the idea. "I
would love to go to the beach," she murmured dreamily. "Summer's
coming up." 

She propped her head on her bent arm and looked at him. "I think I
could put up with you, for a week or so." She smiled shyly.

"Great," he said simply. "We'll arrange for the time off with
Skinner when we get back. Maybe we could write if off as some sort of
work-bonding thing: the FBI Agents that play together, stay
together," he grinned.

She returned his smile, and then ducked her head to stare unseeingly
at the magazine on her lap. She felt almost giddy. She'd just agreed
to go on a vacation with Mulder. Together. The two of them together. 
Her fingers trembled slightly as they closed more tightly around her
hot chocolate.


Mulder returned his attention to his book, but found himself reading
the same sentence over and over, his mind engaged with the thought of
he and Scully frolicking in the waves. The words on the page blurred
and swirled until they formed a perfect outline of Scully on the
beach, wearing only a bikini and suntan lotion that he had applied.
His cock twitched, and he immediately looked up, trying to banish the
image.

Looking across at Scully he noticed her yawn, and glanced at her
watch. He knew the drill. It was too early for her to go to bed, but
she was too tired to stay awake. So she would compromise by dozing on
the sofa for an hour or so, until she could go to bed at what she
considered a 'respectable' time. For some reason that he didn't
understand, she didn't consider sleeping on the sofa 'real' sleep. He
thought it a bizarre routine, but he never complained, because of
late he'd ended up with her head on his lap.

"You wanna lay down?" he asked, lifting the book he was reading from
his lap, and patting his legs. 

She nodded, and moved over to lay her head on his lap. He gently
draped one arm over her waist, and rested his book on the arm of the
sofa.  She wriggled a bit, until she was comfortable, and then almost
immediately began drifting off to sleep.

Mulder watched her, his attention torn completely from his book. 
She was at her most beautiful when she was sleeping.  The fine lines
of worry seemed to soften, and her lips fell apart in invitation.  Or
at least, to him it seemed an invitation.

She shifted again, so she was lying on her back.  He brought his arm
up so it was resting on her chest, and cupped his hand against her
cheek, releasing his book to run his other hand through her hair. 
Unable to help himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her
forehead.  She smiled slightly in her sleep.

He let his fingers trace the planes of her face, allowing them to
caress her bottom lip slightly. Her tongue darted out to lick her
lips, a reaction to the tickling, and he found himself getting
aroused. Please don't wake up Scully, he begged silently, or you'll
be face to face with something I don't think you want to see just yet.

As he looked at her, his mind drifted back to their kiss the
previous night. He hadn't meant to kiss her, and he would probably
have come to his senses the moment their lips met, if not for her
response. She had kissed him back furiously, her tongue meeting his
with equal fervor. When she had pulled away, he'd felt as if a part
of his body had been torn off.  Now as he stared at her parted,
slightly chapped lips, he felt an overwhelming temptation to kiss
them. Just one little kiss.  Just one.

He leaned forward, his body ignoring the warning messages his brain
was sending, and pressed his lips softly to hers. She didn't wake.
The memory of their kiss drove him to press his lips against hers
again, this time for longer. He almost gasped in surprise when he
felt her moist tongue tickle at his lips, and without fully
comprehending what he was doing, he stroked the tip of her tongue
with his. 

It was only the moan that escaped from his throat that brought him
back to reality. He pulled back roughly, and she half-opened her
eyes. She blinked at him in confusion, and then fell back to sleep. 
He breathed a sigh of relief, as a flood of shame washed over him.
That was unforgivable.

Slipping out from under her, he walked out to the back porch,
slipping on a hooded jacket as he exited.  The cool air was a
blessing on his hot face. He stared out into the dark night, mentally
berating himself. He had taken advantage of her, pure and simple. It
was one thing to stroke her hair and face when she was asleep,
another to kiss her. He felt sick; as if he'd betrayed her.

He wondered if he should confess to her. But how? "Oh, by the way,
Scully. Last night when you were asleep on my lap, I kissed you. It
was only meant to be a little kiss, but you must have been having a
really wild dream because you stuck your tongue in my mouth, and I
just couldn't resist."  In the end, it was best to say nothing at
all, and vow never to do it again. 

When Mulder returned to the living room, Scully was still deeply
asleep on the sofa.  He stood there, considering whether to wake her,
or carry her to her room.  He couldn't bring himself to disturb her
slumber, so he bent down, knees creaking and carried her to the bed.
Gently laying her down, he pulled back the covers on the other side. 
He slipped her shoes off, and then looked at her jeans. Should he
take them off?  He knew from personal experience that sleeping in
tight jeans was an unpleasant experience.  But the thought of taking
hers off seemed like a further invasion of her privacy.

This is ridiculous, he thought. You've dressed her naked body
before. Surely you can take her jeans off.  Yes, but last time was a
matter of life and death, he answered himself. And last time you
hadn't kissed her while she was sleeping.

He shook his head. Great. Now he was holding a conversation with
himself.

He knelt on the bed beside her, and started undoing her fly buttons.
When he began tugging her jeans down, he closed his eyes. The least
he could do was not look.

Her voice startled him when she spoke. "Mulder, what are you doing?"

He opened his eyes to find her staring at him in astonishment.

He blushed. "I thought you'd be uncomfortable sleeping in your
jeans, so I was taking them off," he mumbled.

"But why were your eyes closed?" she asked, puzzled.

"I was trying not to invade your privacy," he muttered, by now
thoroughly embarrassed and waiting to be chastised.

Instead, she started laughing. She laughed so hard that she rolled
over to her side, bent double with her arms around her waist. Finally
she sat up to catch her breath. "Mulder, you've seen me *naked*," she
gasped.  She burst into another fit of laughter, and he started to
grin with her.

When she had regained control, she cupped her hand against his
cheek. "I think that's one of the sweetest things you've ever done
for me," she said, still smiling widely.  She pulled his head down,
and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you. G'night, Mulder."

He floated out of her room, unsure what had just happened, but
knowing he'd liked it. 

End Part 5